


Howling Your Heart Out

by Yukio



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, Sacrifice, Season 7 Spoilers, Violence, Werewolf Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-18
Updated: 2012-09-12
Packaged: 2017-11-10 06:09:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 159,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yukio/pseuds/Yukio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is bitten by some werewolf hybrid the Winchester brothers came across during their endless hunt for Leviathans. Dean tries to find some cure despite the strong possibility there is none. They refuse to give up and while they are looking for a possible cure, the brothers clean up much of the mess that gathered beween them throughout the years thanks to Sam's sudden openness and cuddle moods, which are the influence of the animal inside him. But the time is slowly ticking away and Sam is reaching the final change into a bloothirsty monster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And Then I Ran

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a result of my crazy mind working when I was supposed to think about totally different things. But who likes to think about the subject of their thesis non-stop? I needed some distraction and here it goes! Mostly I was influenced by my momentary mood when I was writing some particular parts of the story, so if you think there's something strange, maybe that's because I was in some delirium or something XD Anyway, I'd love to know your opinions, the constructive critisism is always welcomed.  
> The story has 10 chapters + special chapter + epilogue and I'll upload them one by one with time, that's a promise I made to myself and to one specific person who made me to upload the story. So enjoy!

“Son of a bitch!” Dean cursed and pulled out his gun. Sam, lying on a dirty pavement with a huge monster wolf pressing him down with his front paws placed on his chest, only hoped for Dean’s aim to be precise and if not to kill the creature right away, then at least to hurt it badly. Silver bullets were supposed do the good job even if Dean weren’t that lucky, but still… Being totally in mercy of a bloodthirsty werewolf wasn’t exactly on the top list of Sam’s favorite positions.

“Dean, shoot!” he cried, but his voice came out strangled. He was sure that the glimmer in the beast’s eyes was pure derision. With rising panic was he staring at the monster bending over him and pressing him to the ground; he could smell its breath and see the cruelty in its eyes. This dude knew perfectly well who he was and what he was doing. He wasn’t an innocent person during the day with no idea about the murders he caused at night. He wasn’t like Madison… The truth was, Sam had been thinking about Madison quite often lately, about her horrified expression when she found out what she was, her tears when she allowed Sam to kill her because she didn’t want to hurt anyone else. Now Sam remembered all of that, knowing that this guy was a murderer with his heart and soul. He was the same murderer in the daylight as well as at night. That was why he deserved to die, to suffer, to feel the pain of his victims. But what Sam could see when looked into the werewolf’s eyes – and hell, this one must have been some new kind, because he could fully transform into an animal, incredibly fast and cunning and extremely hard to kill – was intelligence and perfect awareness of what he was up to. He was up to tear Sam’s throat. 

“Dean!” Sam rasped, and finally the shot echoed. The werewolf crouched, still pinning Sam to the ground, and Sam could feel a sharp pain on the side of his neck. Crap! Dean missed and the bullet grazed Sam’s neck… Sam groaned and looked at the werewolf. The monster’s fiery eyes were still fixed on him and Sam recognized the challenge. He forced his sore and exhausted body to move, to fight, and when the second shot echoed, the beast whined and ran away.

Sam was gasping, still lying on the ground. Dean ran to him.

“Are you okay?”

“Peachy,” Sam replied and accepted the offered hand.

“The son of a bitch escaped,” Dean cursed. “He’s injured. He can’t be far. Let’s go.”

Sam sighed. He had enough of hunting for one day… or night. He was exhausted, dirty and sore and he didn’t long for anything else than bed. He went to retrieve his gun lying far away from the place where they were standing. The world in front of his eyes swayed for a moment.  

“Sam? You sure you okay?” Dean’s concerned voice sounded close to him.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” he lied and tried not to trip over his own feet. Dean gave him a mistrustful look, but didn’t say anything. Sam could feel his eyes on him.

“You don’t look fine to me,” Dean said and handed Sam his handkerchief. “Here. Wipe the blood off your face. Don’t forget the neck, too.”

Sam gave his brother a hard look and snatched the handkerchief out of Dean’s hand. He wiped his face at first and then pressed the handkerchief against the wound on his neck.

Dean watched him. “Is that a wound?” he asked.  

“It is,” Sam snapped. “You missed,” he continued reproachfully.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Did I?” he asked incredulously.

“You missed and scratched my neck. You could kill me!” Sam went on. He was tired and exasperated.

Dean frowned. “Impossible. I mean… It’s dark, but I’m not such a bad shooter…”

Sam didn’t really know why he was so pissed. Okay, Dean missed and could kill him, but Dean was trying to save his life. So yeah, Sam _was_ unfair, but he didn’t care a bit right now.

“Let’s go back,” Dean said in the end, eying Sam suspiciously. Sam nodded, following his brother to the Impala parked a few blocks away. They didn’t talk, but Sam could still feel Dean’s eyes on him. What the heck? He tried not to snap at Dean. He was successful, but only until they got back into their motel room.

“Let me look at the wound,” Dean said when finally there was enough light for him to inspect the damage he supposedly caused to Sam.

Sam’s blood boiled again. “You did enough,” he grunted, taking their first-aid kit, and after he strode right into the bathroom, he slammed the door after himself.

When he came out at last, showered and his wound treated, he was calmer. Dean gave him one very suspicious and very careful look. Sam ignored him and crawled into bed, happy to go to sleep eventually. He turned his back to Dean and closed his eyes. He could hear his brother go into the bathroom. The last thing Sam registered was the sound of closing door, quiet and careful.

*

 When Sam got up in the morning, Dean was still asleep. Sam felt guilty for snapping at him the last night so he brought him a big piece of apple pie together with breakfast and morning coffee.

Dean accepted Sam’s clumsy apology with a silent nod of his head, and while he was slowly chomping on his apple pie, he shot Sam suspicious looks from time to time. Sam was drinking his coffee, feeling stupid under Dean’s scrutiny.

“May I finally look at the wound?” asked Dean when a good half of his breakfast was gone.

Sam grimace and forced himself into a calm tone. “It’s just a scratch, don’t worry. It’ll be okay soon.”

Dean only nodded, throwing one more mistrustful look in Sam’s direction.

*

They went to check the place where they fought the werewolf last night. Sam was looking for any scratch on the pavement, telling him that he had been right… but he couldn’t find any proof of Dean’s missed shot, not talking about the bullet itself.

It was Dean who found a trace of it. A hole in a wall was enough to tell Sam that there was no chance the bullet could have harmed him anyhow.

“Seems you were right after all. I really did miss the second time,” Dean said thoughtfully.

Sam looked at the hole. “Second time…”

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure I hit the son of a bitch with the first shot.”

“Right…” Sam said, chill crawling down his spine.

They spent the rest of the day looking for some trace of the werewolf, but they couldn’t find any.

*

Sam had one of the weirdest dreams that night. He was a big canine looking for something. Or someone. He wasn’t sure until a huge wolf crossed his path. Their eyes met and Sam felt burning hatred. The only thing he could think of was killing the opponent and having his revenge… for what exactly, it stayed a secret.

The fight was bloody and ferocious. Sharp fangs were sinking into flesh with cold cruelty, biting and tearing. Blood was spurting in every direction until Sam’s fangs dug into the sensitive skin on the other canine’s throat. He took a good hold of it and started the true carnage. With the taste of blood in his mouth and the life leaving the other body Sam could finally feel the satisfaction he was looking for. Whatever the wolf had done to him, it was revenged now, and Sam really didn’t need to know what it was. He didn’t care. What counted was the sweetness of his victory mixed with the metallic taste of blood and the smell of death. He tilted his head to the inky sky and howled…

*

 When Sam woke up in the morning, he was alone. He looked around and it seemed as though Dean had left the room in a hurry: his blanket was tossed on the floor, the radio alarm clock was knocked down from the bedside table, the door of the bathroom wide open, and the duffel with their weapons thrown in a corner, unzipped. Sam reached for his phone tucked in the pocket of his jeans lying on the floor only to realize his whole body was sore. His senses woke up immediately into almost painful awareness. The second thing he realized was that he was naked under the blanket. And bruised. And injured. Bitten in several places, but the wounds seemed to be already half-healed. The fading pain wasn’t such a problem – in any case Sam didn’t want to bother with the fact that his muscles were aching as though he had been fighting the whole night. The real problem was the unpleasant chill creeping up his spine, slowly but uncompromisingly.

Sam snatched the phone out from the pocket and looked at the display. Three missed calls from Dean, all of them done during the night. How come Sam hadn’t heard his phone ringing? He checked his voicemail box, finding out there really was a voicemail from Dean: _Sam, it’s me. Where on the earth are you? Call me_.Sam checked the time. Night hours again.

He sighed and sat up. His head spun and he felt like throwing up. _Okay. At first bathroom, then calling Dean._ He stood up. His legs felt like jelly and it took him quite some time to cross the distance into the depth of the small bathroom. Luckily, he managed to get there sooner than his stomach decided to crack down on him and made him double over the toilet. Damn, he didn’t remember getting drunk last night. Actually, he didn’t remember drinking any alcohol so he didn’t get why he was as sick as though he had downed half of storage.

After his stomach calmed down a little, he staggered out from the bathroom. Getting dressed took him a lot more time than usual. He was grateful that clothes hid all of his bruises and wounds. Good. What Dean didn’t know about couldn’t harm him. Sam took his phone and dialed Dean’s number.

“Sam? Where the hell are you?” sounded on the other side of the line after the first ring.

“In the motel room,” Sam said, his voice sounding strangely dull.

“I’m right there. Don’t leave the room,” Dean replied and hung up.

Sam sighed. Dean sounded pissed, but he could control his temper. For now. Sam got back in bed and waited.

It didn’t take long and the door of the room swung open and Dean burst in. Sam sat up, feeling a little bit better than a while ago.

“Where have you been the whole night?” Dean barked.

Sam shrugged. “I don’t remember leaving the room,” he said hoarsely.

“The hell you don’t!”

“I don’t, okay? I remember getting to bed last night and waking up in the same bed this morning with three missed calls and you gone.”

Dean frowned, giving Sam a scrutinizing look.

“You look like crap,” he said after a while.

Sam really wanted to scowl. “I’ve looked into the mirror this morning,” he snapped.

“So… you were like… somnambulant or something?” Dean asked, and his eyes didn’t leave Sam’s face.

“If I really wasn’t here, then I think that’s the only reasonable explanation.”

“Right,” Dean said, but he didn’t sound convinced. Luckily, he decided to skip to another topic. “The dude we hunted last night is dead. His body was found this morning. His throat was torn.”

Sam winced, remembering his strange dream. “He’s dead?” he asked incredulously.

“Yup. Seems like we have another furry fella here.”

Sam’s eyes met Dean’s. “Why do you think?”

“Because a dog would be no match for him. Whoever sent him to the other side had fangs and had to be strong enough to overpower him.”

Sam nodded. It made sense.

“May I have a look at your wound?” Dean asked suddenly.

Sam stiffened. “I told you it was just a scratch. It’ll be fine.” He sighed and lay down. The heaviness of Dean’s gaze was crushing him. “It’s okay, Dean, really.”

Dean shrugged. “Whatever… I’m gonna bring breakfast. Stay here, okay.”

“Mkay,” Sam muttered into the pillow.

He waited until Dean was gone again before he hurried into the bathroom. He tore off the plaster from his neck, revealing the wound. His heart skipped a beat as he was staring at his abused skin. It wasn’t a scratch, he could see it clearly now. It was a bite.

Mist appeared in front of Sam’s eyes and he doubled over the toilet once again that morning.

It couldn’t be true, it couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t! He wasn’t a werewolf, he couldn’t have killed the guy. It was just a dream, maybe a premonition, even though Sam didn’t have those in years.

He washed his mouth and ran back into the room. If he remembered right, his gun was still loaded with silver bullets. He took out one of them only to drop it on the floor immediately as it burned his hand. FUCK!

Sam was staring at the bullet. His last hope was shattered into pieces. He felt panic slowly crawling into his mind. He was trying to push it away; there wasn’t time for it now. He needed to decide immediately what to do now. 

He couldn’t tell Dean, of course not. The only way to eliminate a werewolf was to kill it. He couldn’t want that from Dean. It was too cruel and he was sure Dean wouldn’t have done it anyway. He was more likely to get Sam in the car and take him far, far away from any civilization. He would keep an eye on Sam not to hurt anyone. He would waste his own life, looking for a cure instead of saving people’s lives. Sam couldn’t allow that. He knew he had to deal with his problem alone.

He took his gun hesitantly. A bullet in the head and everything would be over…

He shivered, realizing that even thinking of it was scaring crap out of him. When he thought of his death, he was automatically thinking of Hell. Sam would never have admitted it, and he also never did, but he was scared shitless of dying. He wasn’t a good man like Dean. He was just a walking crap in meatsuit with as many issues as he could gather during his life. He was a disappointment to everyone he loved and no matter how hard he was trying to convince himself that he was okay, that the time in Hell was enough of a punishment for his mistakes, no matter how much he believed he was forgiven… that all were just lies weaved by his need to stay sane. He was trying hard to be good, to make it up to Dean and the rest of the world for the time he was soulless and the son of a bitch of the highest category. Sam hated admitting all of this, but he knew it had been just a matter of time when his inner demons would strike.

He glanced at the alarm clock still lying on the floor. If he wanted to spare Dean the revelation (even though Sam believed Dean already anticipated what was really going on, the scrutinizing look Dean had been giving him since Sam had yelled at him for the missed shot didn’t escape his attention) and the cruel duty, it was time to pack his things and leave as soon as possible and as far as he could. He packed his duffel hastily, leaving just a short note on Dean’s bed before he left the room: _Don’t look for me. Ever. Sam._

_*_

When Dean found the room empty, he knew he was right, and the few words Sam had left for him just confirmed it. Hmpf, as if Dean was going to listen to whatever Sam wanted from him. Sam wasn’t himself right now and the sooner Dean found him, the better for him and for the rest of the population. Sam couldn’t solve this alone, even though he obviously thought he could. Which, of course, was bullshit.

He noticed the silver bullet lying on the floor.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Sam,” he said to himself, but it left him with an idea. He quickly packed and left the room. After he signed out from the motel, he headed into the town, looking for the nearest hardware store. It wasn’t so hard to find it. But first things first. Dean pulled out his cell phone and tried to call Sam. As expected, the bitch had turned his phone off. Probably even got rid of it already.

Dean parked the Impala in front of the store. He hoped for at least _some_ lead to Sam.

“What can I do for you?” asked the clerk as Dean walked in.

“I’m looking for a guy. Tall, brown hair, hazel eyes…”

The clerk gave him a knowing look. “A guy like that came here just a half hour ago. Really tall.”

“What did he want?”

“He asked whether we had something made of silver. Silver chains, silver handcuffs… It sounded pretty kinky to me,” the clerk said, giving Dean an amused grin. Dean decided to ignore it for the guy’s own good.

“What did you tell him?”

“That we didn’t sell anything like that. He looked disappointed.”

“Okay,” Dean sighed. “Did he buy anything?”

“Yeah. Actually, he took an iron chain and a few massive padlocks.”

Dean nodded. It was definitely Sam. Looking for something to stop his night errands. Dean was sure that Sam would try again to get something made of silver and powerful enough to weaken a werewolf.

“Have you seen his car?” he asked as though just out of sheer curiosity.

“You mean the junker? Yeah, I’ve seen it,” the clerk said with a scornful smirk, but Dean knew better than that. Sam needed to be as inconspicuous as possible but fast and he wasn’t a dummy to take a car that obviously wouldn’t make it out of the town. It was likely that he would change the car for something else in the next town.

“The junker, yeah,” Dean said and gave the clerk a similar smile. “The guy has a bad taste, but he loves his car.”

The clerk shrugged. “I can get it. Trucks are generally dependable cars. I had one of my own, but I changed it for a nice shiny SUV last year.”

Dean nodded and thanked the clerk. Truck, of course…

*

Sam headed out from the town as fast as the old car allowed him. He still didn’t have anything silver if he didn’t count the few bullets in his gun. He didn’t know how high his chances to get a silver chain were. Probably not much unless he asked someone skilled to forge it for him. There was no time for looking for anyone like that. Sam’s priority was to get from human civilization as far as he could. He wasn’t sure yet where he wanted to go, but as far as he was thinking about it, the endless forests of Canada sounded quiet appealing. He could live the life of a hermit there and bother only bears. But until he got there… he glanced at the thick chain lying on the passenger seat. He definitely needed something silver, too.

With multiplying miles he drove reverted his thoughts to the events of the last night… and to Dean. Would Dean do what Sam asked him for in the note? Sam knew his words were harsh, he meant them to be. He wanted Dean to stay as far as possible from him. It had been hard to write them, even harder to leave them there on Dean’s bed. He was losing the last person he could rely on, about whom he cared and whom he loved. Hell, Sam loved his brother more than anyone else in the world. Dean was everything he had: support and safety, and even though there were so many things between them, Dean never stopped watching over Sam.

But now he had to let go. Sam was dangerous to anyone and everyone and there was nothing Dean could do. Except eliminating the danger. Because that was what hunters did.

Sam controlled the reflection in the rearview mirror every now and then, making sure no one was following him. He reached another town and he decided to try his luck there. The thing in the hardware store repeated – no silver chains for desperate werewolves. No silver chains at all. What more, the clerk gave Sam a weird look as though he thought the guy was some kind of a pervert and he talked to Sam in such a way as well. If Sam hadn’t felt like the greatest freak of the world already, he would have taught the guy to show some respect to his customers, no matter how perverted their demands sounded.

Sam left the hardware store with heavy feeling in his heart. He stole another car, leaving the truck behind, and set off on his journey to nowhere. Nowhere sounded good as long as it was far enough from Dean…

The night found Sam on the road. He parked the car under the protection of a forest. He got to the back seat and locked all four doors. The tiny space in the car was pretty uncomfortable. Sam took the iron chain and the padlocks, studying them for a long time. He didn’t know how far he was from the nearest town and how strong and determined was the vicious creature within him. Sam wound the chain around his hands and legs and locked the loops with the padlocks, hoping they were strong enough to restrain a werewolf. He shoved the keys from the padlocks into the pocket of his jacket. The pocket had a zipper so Sam supposed they were safe there.

He sighed into the seat and tried to get some sleep.

*

The first stop when Dean reached the town was a hardware store. Bad thing was that there were more stores of that kind and he was provided with the information he needed only in the third one. That cost Dean a way too much time, but at least he found out he was right. Sam was heading north.

The guy in the store turned out to be a true ass, especially when he found out who Dean was looking for. Dean taught him a lesson about respect and left.

As he found out, Sam got rid of the truck and got a new car, but what kind of car it was, he didn’t know. What he could be sure about was that Sam was already miles away from the town. It was already getting dark, but Dean decided to drive even at night. He didn’t need to be a prophet to know that Sam was riding the most deserted roads and that he would have to stop somewhere for the night. Most likely locked in a car parked somewhere near the road, hidden from curious eyes and bound in chains, afraid of the night creature inside him. He just knew his brother too well…

*

Sam was woken up by a sharp pain around his wrists and ankles. The chain was literally digging into his skin, leaving dark bruises. Sam was lying on the floor under the back seat, gazing at the torn ceiling above him. Shreds of thick fabric were hanging from it, pieces of foam were scattered everywhere around. Both the back seat and the front seats were torn. Sam sighed. The wolf must have been raging…

He wanted to reach into the pocket of his jacket… when he realized with a stabbing intensity that what his jacket was before was just a new pile of shreds. All his clothes were completely torn, nothing had survived.

Sam’s breath quickened with rising panic. _The keys_. He had to find the keys from the padlocks. He had to find them _right now_. He supposed they were lying on the floor somewhere under him. Sam wanted to sit up, only to find out he was stuck between the seats. Fuck, fuck, fuck! This couldn’t be true! He was close to start hyperventilating. He pulled the chain binding his hands violently, but the loops got only tighter. Sam moaned with pain and sobbed quietly. This was so fucked up.

He was lying still for a while, trying to calm down. He got a better look at his hands and only then realized that one of the padlocks was broken. Sam felt a flicker of hope and he quickly got rid of the padlock and freed his one hand. Blood rushed through his veins again and Sam sighed with relief.

He managed to heave himself from the floor and collapsed heavily on the torn back seat, panting as though he had run a few miles. He was exhausted. Whatever he had been doing during the night, it took its price now.

He looked at the floor, finding the keys from the padlocks. He freed his aching limbs from the grasp of the iron chain, finding out that one more padlock was broken. How strong did the creature he had changed into have to be if it were able to damage two of four strong padlocks? Sam obviously needed to visit a hardware store again. And get something silver if he didn’t want to spend all his money on hardware. And get a new car somewhere along the way because this one was a total mess – and that was quiet conspicuous.

He waited until blood started circulating into his limbs again and then reached for his duffel lying in the passenger’s seat, taking out new clothes. He should buy some of those, too. While he was getting dressed, he noticed many bruises all over his body. God, what was he doing the whole night? He couldn’t remember. He would have freaked out completely if he hadn’t been so tired. He lay down in the back seat again, which was even less comfortable now than before it suffered the damage, and closed his eyes, falling asleep immediately.

*

Dean woke up when the sun was on its half-way to the sky. It had been about midnight when he parked the car on the side of the road to get a few hours of sleep. It wouldn’t have done any good to anybody if he had been driving the whole night, not talking about the fact that finding his brother during the night could have ended with a catastrophic result. Sam had had to stop somewhere for the night, which meant Dean was slowly catching up with him. He wondered how Sam had been doing during the night and how he was doing right now. Was he hurt? Was he safe? Was he on his journey again or was he trying to catch up on sleep? Was he scared? Dean would bet his lost Impala that he was. He had to find his brother as soon as possible. He started the engine and hoped he would find some trace of Sam.

*

When Sam opened the door, he literally fell out from the car. He was lying on the muddy ground, staring at the sky. According to the height of the sun he assumed it was shortly after noon, the time to get behind the wheel and drive to the nearest town to get the stuff he needed and then leave it as fast as he could. It really irritated him that he had to make night breaks, but the fact was that if he hadn’t had to, he would still have been with Dean.

Sam felt a painful stab in his chest. It hurt thinking of his brother. He wondered where Dean was and what he was doing. Was he looking for Sam? As far as Sam knew him, he surely was. A crack of a small smile appeared on his face. This was why he loved his brother so much. Dean never gave up. He kept fighting even if it was futile. This time it was bringing nothing. Sam was a monster and not even Dean could do anything with that. Sam needed Dean far away and safe.

He got up to his feet and after a few stretching exercises he climbed into the driver’s seat and pulled the car on the road again. He still felt tired, but he wasn’t sleepy anymore.

After a couple of hours he reached a town. The first stop was in a hardware store to buy new padlocks. Still no silver chain kept in the store, but this time he was offered to get one forged for him. The problem was the chain would have been available only in a month and Sam hoped he would have reached the endless forests of Canada by the time. Besides, he couldn’t risk Dean to find him. Sam had already left too many tracks.

He barely stepped out from the store when something caught his attention. A sign above the store across the street saying ‘Jewelry’ sounded promising as for Sam’s hunt for silver. He sighed. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

He crossed the street and entered the store. He shuffled to the counters where silver stuff was displayed: chains, rings, pendants… Sam’s eyes stopped on the chains.

“Can I help you?” asked the salesclerk, a tiny girl with a nice smile.

“Um… I’m looking for a silver chain,” Sam said timidly.

The girl smiled and showed him all the chains they had there.

Sam really didn’t feel comfortable there. The girl was twittering about the design of chains and their quality. Sam didn’t care about the design at all. He needed silver that could keep the monster inside him under control in the first place. Finally he chose the thickest chain they had there. Even though it wasn’t much, he hoped it would support enough the strength of the iron chain.

He was about to leave the store as fast as possible, when he noticed a pendant in the shape of letter D under the glass.

_Dean._

“Disappointment,” his mouth whispered. Disappointment… That was he.

_Dean…_

He wanted to leave the store without any second thought, but the pendant didn’t want to get out of his head.

“I’ll take this one, too,” he heard himself saying. The girl behind the counter smiled and in a few minutes the pendant was his. _Dean would laugh…_

Before he stole a new car and left the old one behind, he bought food supplies. He hoped they were enough for a few days. He didn’t want to stop anywhere soon. He believed that Dean was on his tail, maybe even closer than Sam knew, and that was why Sam needed to confuse him. He didn’t have time to create fake traces and Dean would have recognized them from the true ones anyway so he had to make sure there weren’t any new ones. If he was lucky, a few days without any trace would confuse Dean and it would be easier for Sam to disappear.

Disappear… Another word starting with D…

*

Dean drove through three towns until he was willing to admit that he lost the track of Sam. The bitch still wasn’t picking up his phone and his laptop had become Dean’s possession since he hadn’t taken it with him, although his fake IDs had disappeared. Sam obviously thought that he might have needed them.

The only solution now was to take a map and try to figure out which way Sam might have taken. He needed to eat, therefore he couldn’t avoid towns forever and Dean wasn’t sure whether Sam had found what he was looking for – a silver chain – but he doubted that. It was more likely that Sam improvised and got a silver amulet instead.

The worst thing that could happen was that Dean might have gotten ahead of Sam. Not knowing what Sam’s destination was, it really wasn’t a good thing. He decided to spend the night in a motel and get a good sleep before he continued with his search for Sam.

*

Sam pulled off the road, hiding the car in the shadows of trees. He was tired, but he knew he wasn’t going to get much rest. Especially if he was going to wear the silver chain tonight. Even thinking of it was giving Sam goose bumps. The bruises he got the last night were long gone, proving Sam’s new ability to heal in a short time. He knew that not even steel bullet in the head could harm him now. But silver… Silver was poison. But as long as he wanted to keep this car longer than the previous one without attracting any unwanted attention because of the mess inside, he had to make the monster within him as weak as possible. Sam couldn’t afford leaving the cars with torn insides behind either. They would have been a great lead for Dean.  

This time he was wiser. He took off his clothes before he wound the chain around his hands and ankles, giving his hands only as much freedom as they needed for the activities such as hiding the keys from the padlocks in the pocket of his new jacket folded in the passenger’s seat and pulling out the box with the silver chain. He opened the box and looked at the chain with the pendant.

Sam stopped praying to God and angels long ago. It happened even before he found out that God wasn’t watching over the world anymore and the angels were just dicks, minding their own wars. But now he felt the urge to beg someone who still cared about his little soul for strength and courage. He was staring at the silver D for a long time, his hands shaking and tears rolling down his cheeks when he said:

“Give me your strength to survive this night, Dean,” he whispered as he reached for the chain.

It felt like touching red-hot iron. Sam held his breath and put the chain around his neck. The silver D slid on his sternum. Sam groaned with pain. The silver was burning his skin, it felt like wearing fire around his neck. Sam sobbed, his hands reaching for the chain unconsciously as though he wanted to tear it off from his neck, but the result was burned fingers. Sam’s vision was already too hazy with pain and tears and he could hardly see the burns. He rolled down into the seat, digging his fingers into the covering. This was going to be a long night…

*

The sun was already high and Sam still wasn’t able to move and take off the silver chain. He hadn’t slept all night long, that was why he knew he hadn’t changed. Or he had? The only thing he could remember clearly was the burning pain and the strength leaving his body. He was helpless… totally helpless and maybe going to die, because he wasn’t able to move even a finger, he was that weak. His tired mind was foggy and the only thing he could focus on was Dean… Sam’s big brother looking for him.

Sam gave a quiet, painful groan – just another one in the long series of them. Dean…

Sam knew he couldn’t stay here. Though tired, he knew he had to continue with his journey to north, to Canada, into the endless forests where people wandered only accidentally. That would become Sam’s sanctuary. But at first he had to get there.

Sam moved his hand and his whole body trembled. It felt like a wooden shell, cracking whenever he tried to move his limbs. Sam’s hand was inching its way to the chain hanging around his neck and burning deep marks into his skin.

The sudden sharpness of the rays of the sun sent a new shudder down his spine.

“Let’s look what a nice package we got here,” he heard the words said in a malevolent tone, but he couldn’t recognize the voice. And then: “Sam?” It sounded surprised. Whoever it was, they knew him.

Sam heard mischievous laughter. “Chains, Sammy? Kinky.”

 _It’s Sam,_ his mind responded automatically.

“What happened to you? Were you raped and left here like this?”

Some hands touched him… touched the silver chain, the burns it left.

“Crap!”

The chain was removed hastily. Relief flooded Sam’s tired body. He groaned.

“What the hell happened to you, Winchester? You got to the dark side?”

The padlocks were broken and the chain slid from his body with ease.

 “Where’s your brother, Sam? Where is Dean?” The voice sounded close to his ear. It belonged to a woman.

“Dean…” he whispered and his mind went blank. _Dean…_

_*_

Dean reached another town, but the result was the same as the day before. No one whom he asked knew anything about Sam. It could be that either Sam didn’t stop there or took another road. None of that sounded hopeful.

While waiting in the town’s diner for his meal to be brought, he was contemplating his next steps. He could hardly ask some officer to help him find his brother or simply hack into the federal database. Anyway, the only thing he would have found out was that both of them were dead, stopped by a brave officer when they tried to escape from jail after they were arrested for multiple murders. Dean sighed. If only he had had his car back! He had to give up the Impala, his precious baby, after the incident with their bad twins. Dean hated those sons of bitches from Purgatory! He promised himself to send them back where they came from. Which wasn’t an easy task, of course. But now his priority was to find Sam. 

While thinking like this, he was watching how an old car was being towed away from the parking lot in front of the diner.

“Your burger, mister,” the waitress said as she brought Dean his lunch. He gave her one of his charming smiles and thanked. She smiled back with a slight nod of her head and glanced outside.

“Finally the old junker will stop spooking here,” she said.

“Spooking?” Dean asked and grinned. “Do old things spook you?”

The waitress shrugged. “It’s more like old, abandoned cars.”

“Tell me more about that,” Dean said, leaning against the backrest and smiling at the waitress again. She was pretty and talking about spooky cars… He was a hunter and this was his job, right?

“There’s not much to say. It’s just what my son told me this morning and… police was here yesterday, asking about some stolen car…”

The words caught Dean’s attention. “What car?”

“I don’t know. I’m not really interested in cars so I can’t tell you what it was. It was… just a usual car, no truck or anything. It was quite old and I heard that when its owner had seen it, he didn’t want it anymore and simply scrapped it.”

“What was wrong with the car?” Dean asked.

“The inside was a complete mess. I heard that it looked like some wild animal had been shut in there. The local kids came with some ghost stories, especially after someone said that a few shreds of clothes had been found there together with a key from a padlock,” the waitress said, giving Dean an apologetic look. “You know, I hate horror stories, but my son loves them and sometimes he comes to me with such stories just to scare me.”

Dean smiled. “Funny kid.”

The waitress nodded and smiled back coyly. “I’m sorry, but I gotta go back to work.”

Dean nodded. “Yes, thanks.”

The waitress walked away quickly, maybe feeling ashamed for admitting her fear of horror stories.

Dean finished his burger quickly and then left the diner. It was time to check the situation.

*

The car was a real mess. Back seat, front seats, ceiling, floor… There was definitely something demonic about it and it was Dean’s job to find out what it was.

It was Sam. Dean was sure about it and after he found a few tiny shreds of a shirt that looked quite familiar, he had no doubts. Although… who said there couldn’t be anyone else who wore the same type of shirts as Sam? But it didn’t matter now. In any case, this looked like a job and Dean was there to solve it. He found out where the car was found and where it was from and followed the track while it was still hot.

*

Sam woke up much later just to find out he was lying on a couch with a warm blanket covering his naked body. He still felt tired and weak and the skin around his neck was stinging like hell, but he didn’t feel like he was being burned alive anymore.

“Awake, pretty boy?” he heard a woman’s voice and turned his head to look at a brunette sitting in an armchair just a few steps away from the couch.

“Meg?”

“Long time no see.” Her voice sounded mockingly as ever, but there was no hatred in it now. Maybe it hadn’t been there even the last time they met, Sam couldn’t remember clearly.

“Where are we?” he asked hoarsely. His throat was dry and burning and he would have appreciated a drop of water. He looked around the place. According to what he saw it looked like some mountain lodge.

“You want to know what this place is or are you asking about your coordinates?”

“The first one is enough,” Sam said and curled up under the blanket. If Meg wanted to hurt him, she would have done it long ago. And maybe it wouldn’t even be so bad if she did…

“We’re in the depth of forests on the east side of Rocky Mountains. South Wyoming, near the borders with Colorado.”

Sam nodded. He needed to cross Montana to get to Canada and disappear from Dean’s radar for good…

“Where are you going, Sam?” This time the voice wasn’t mocking, just curious.

“It’s none of your business,” he grunted nevertheless.

“I think it is since I saved you and brought you here, into my shelter.”

Sam looked at her incredulously. “Saved me? How if I can ask?”

Meg showed him the silver chain with the D-shaped pendant.

“Give it back.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were suicidal.” The mocking tone was back.

“Give. It. Back,” Sam growled darkly.

Meg raised an eyebrow and threw the chain to Sam, who caught it but dropped it on the floor immediately.

“What’s up, wolfie? It didn’t burn your tiny paw, did it?”

Sam glared.

“Will you tell me what happened or shall I guess?”

Sam stayed quiet.

“Okay then. You know what I think? I think you messed up a case, got bitten by a werewolf – some kinds of them are really amazing, their bloodlust can be limitless.” The joy of saying that was so obvious in the tone of Meg’s voice that Sam felt an immediate regret that he had left the demon knife to Dean. This bitch deserved the cold steel in her guts. “You became a wolfie yourself and because you weren’t able to stand the idea of hurting your oh so precious brother, you ran away,” she finished and gave Sam a wide smile.

“Shut up,” Sam growled, piercing Meg with a hateful look.

“I believe I’m right. You know what would help you, Sam? I bet you know it too. Silver bullet in your heart. Or head. Depends on what you prefer,” she said and smiled sweetly.

“I said shut up,” Sam said, trying to sound as dangerous as he could.

“Sammy, Sammy,” Meg said and shook her head. “Do you really prefer dying slowly in agony?” she asked, picking up the chain. “D? As in desperate? Because that’s exactly what I can see – a bundle of desperation.”

Sam clenched his teeth. He so wanted to hurt the demon…

“Or is it damned? Because you are that too. Hmm… Or it can be dead. I can help you with that one. All you need to do is ask politely.” She smiled.

“Go to hell,” Sam growled.

“Be nice, Sam, I helped you. You wouldn’t have been able to move and take off that thing for days and days until you would’ve been too weak to even live. What you did was a suicide, Sam, and don’t want me to think that was what you really planned. If you wanted to die, you would’ve done it quick and clean.”

Sam didn’t stop glaring at Meg, but he didn’t even try to say anything this time. Meg was right. He hadn’t wanted to die. He had only wanted to be weak enough to not do any harm. He hadn’t counted with the possibility of not being able to take off the thing of his neck. Maybe he really should thank Meg, but instead of doing that he asked:

“Why did you help me?”

She shrugged. “What would it help me if I killed you? Walking body is always easier to hide than the one unable to move. Besides, your brother would try to avenge you and I really don’t need that now. You can leave and not bother me anymore, or you can stay and help me to hunt down Crowley.”

Sam gave her a surprised look. “You’re after Crowley? Seriously? He’ll toast you the moment he sees you.”

“We’ll see,” Meg said hatefully. “I’m not alone, Sam. There are more of us who want him dead. We heard that he wanted to enter into an alliance with Dick, and most of demons don’t appreciate that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s none of your business, Sam, unless you want to help. What’s holding you back? You’re not on the good side anymore, you’ve become a monster just like me, just like the one who bit you…”   

“Shut up!” Sam cried, shaking with rage. “You know nothing so shut up!”

Meg’s lips curled into a pitying smile. “Sam, it’s you who doesn’t know anything. In general werewolves are known for their bloodlust. You can try to restrain yourself, but either you die or kill someone in the least appropriate time. You need to feed your hunger for blood to stay strong and sane. Here!” Meg threw Sam’s duffel on the couch. “Get dressed. You still have a few hours until the change.”

Sam grumbled under his breath and scowled at Meg. “Can you leave me alone for a while?”

Meg rolled her eyes. “It’s not like I’ve never seen you naked…” But she walked out from the lodge anyway, giving Sam some privacy.

Sam sighed and pulled on his jeans and shirt. He noticed bruises around his wrists and ankles and he guessed that his weakened body wasn’t going to deal with them in such a short time than with the ones from before when he didn’t have the silver chain. Then he took a dirty T-shirt from the duffel and picked up the chain from the floor, curling it into the fabric.

When he was dressed and his things packed, he moved to the door. He barely had time to touch the handle, when the door opened and Meg was standing in the doorway.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I’m leaving. Where’s my car?”

Meg gave Sam a mocking smile. “First thing, it’s not your car. Second thing, you should stay until tomorrow. It’s late, you won’t get far and it’d be better if you just… let go for one night…” she said sweetly, her fingers trailing a line up Sam’s arm. “No one is here. It’s just you, me and the forest. You can change and go out and you won’t hurt anyone.” Her voice was silky… _tempting…_ “No chains and no silver tonight and tomorrow you can continue with your journey, strong and rested.”

Sam looked at Meg and shivered. No one was here… he could stay and rest… he didn’t need to torture himself with silver…

“You won’t get too far if you are barely able to move. Dean will find you.”

Sam took a deep breath.

“Okay. One night,” he said as though it was he doing Meg a favor and not the other way round. He returned back on the couch. He could at least get some more sleep. He still wasn’t quite fine.

Meg smiled. “You’ll feel much, much better.”

*

Dean had enough of tracks that appeared and disappeared again. He visited the town where the car had been stolen, he was in the hardware store just to find out that the result of Sam’s effort to get a silver chain was the same as in the previous two, but this time he found out something that didn’t please him much but at least gave him an idea how Sam was doing. As he walked out from the hardware store, the sign ‘Jewelry’ above the entrance of the store across the road caught his attention. He went there just out of curiosity. Sam could be a great sap and if he had been desperate, why not to visit such a store, right?

Finding out that he had been right didn’t calm him down very much. Sam’s masochistic tendencies whenever he thought he was saving the world with them were unnerving. Dean was _so_ going to kick the kid’s ass when he found him! His brother should finally learn that running away was never going to solve anything. 

The more Dean was thinking about it, the more pissed he was.

“Bitch,” he growled as he opened the door of some random car, looking as inconspicuous as possible, and he drove out from the town, ignoring the speed limit. He doubted that Sam got too far considering his inability to drive at night. But one thing was knowing Sam was close, another guessing where exactly he was.

*

Sam woke up with a weird feeling of satisfaction. He was staring at the ceiling for a long while, trying to recall the events of the last night. His muscles were aching and his left side stinging. The only thing he remembered was believing Meg they were alone in this godforsaken land (he could kind of smell the solitude in the air) and not using the silver chain, even though he had still bound his hands and legs with the iron chain. But today… he felt light and free. Maybe because there was no chain restraining him anymore.

Sam winced and sat up. The thick blanket that was covering his naked body slid down his chest, revealing many healing scratches and minor wounds, not talking about big bloody smudges all over his body. Sam shivered. What the hell was he doing the whole night? He looked at his stinging side with a heavy feeling in his heart. Four long and bloody red stripes decorated his body. The wounds must have been deep and under normal circumstances they would surely have been mortal, but Sam could call himself lucky for his (almost) immortality and incredible healing speed. It still didn’t calm him down, especially when he noticed the iron chain lying on the floor in two pieces. Sam was taken aback by the force that caused such damage, realizing it was himself who had done that.

He took a deep breath. It was a good thing to run away. He could have broken Dean’s neck so easily…

The door of the lodge opened and Meg stepped in.

“You finally awake, pretty boy?” she said in that mocking tone of hers, her eyes wandering over Sam’s body appreciatively. “How is your side?”

Sam wriggled a bit and pulled the blanket higher unconsciously. “Healing. Why… why am I injured? What was I doing?”

Meg smiled. “Seems a grizzly didn’t make it.” She laughed cheerfully. “You should take a shower, you smell like a wet dog. We’ll talk later.”

“Is there something we should talk about?” he asked as he stood up with the blanket still wound around himself. He reached for his duffel where his clothes were folded in a neat pile.

“I guess,” Meg said and walked into the kitchenette where she started making coffee.

When Sam joined her at the table in the end, sipping from the steaming beverage, getting a confident smile from her, he really didn’t know what to make out of it.

“How do you feel?” she asked, the smile never leaving her lips.

He shrugged. “Good,” he said evasively. In fact, he felt much better than any time since the moment he had become what he had become, and that scared hell out of him.

Meg’s smile widened. “You wonder why you don’t feel so tired anymore, don’t you?”

He stayed quiet. She knew it anyway, so why to bother with answering?

“It’s the kill. The taste of blood calmed down the wolf inside you. The rage that you were trying to suppress so hard was allowed to come out. It’s possible that the kill calmed the wolf enough and he won’t bother you for a few nights.”

Sam lifted his head, gazing at Meg, confused.

“What does it mean?” he asked.

She shrugged. “It means that you probably won’t change for a couple nights. But it’s just a guess. Anyway, you should use the time and have a proper rest…”

Sam frowned. “I have to go.”

Meg gave him a regretful look. “You don’t need to go, Sam. You can stay and help us to get Crowley… and maybe even Dick afterwards. Dean won’t find you…” She reached out and touched Sam’s hand lightly. He didn’t pull away, gazing at their hands absent-mindedly, lost in his own thoughts.

He was a monster, he fitted into the company of demons perfectly. He was unbelievably strong and he never was the slowest. He was practically immortal unless a silver bullet got him right. His healing speed was incredible and he could get used to the feeling of satisfaction after a kill easily. He would have been free. But…

What really troubled Sam was the fact that he wasn’t sure whether calling for blood in general was stronger than calling for human blood only. He knew that humans were a werewolf’s most natural prey. He didn’t know how strong he was ignoring that call despite the prospect of killing as many evil creatures as he could. Besides, hunting always required being close to people and Sam couldn’t just wander among his possible preys in case he wasn’t able to resist.

“No,” he said in the end and pulled his hand away. “I can’t stay. I have to go.”

“What are you afraid of, Sam? You’re strong, swift, cunning… and you need this.”

“No.” He stood up from the table. “Where’s my car?”

Meg sighed. “You’re giving me a headache.”

He would have laughed if he hadn’t felt so frustrated. He knew he was going to use the silver chain again, especially if the iron one wasn’t of much use anymore. As for the padlocks, there was only one left that wasn’t broken yet, but it was just a matter of time until it would give in, too.

“The car is outside,” Meg said, and this time she sounded pissed. “You could stay. We would take care of you.”

“How? You would feed me with grizzly blood?” he said sarcastically, moving to the door.

“If we needed to,” Meg said indifferently and shrugged.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Sam said and walked out from the lodge. The sun was high already. It was time to continue in the journey.

“Where do you want to go?” Meg asked as he threw his duffel in the back seat.

He shrugged. “I don’t know yet. North.” He sniffed the air as if it could tell him where to go. “You don’t need my company anymore. Your friend’s returned,” he said suddenly and got in the car.

Meg glanced at the trees behind the lodge and nodded. “You’re good.”

“I’m not. The wind changed.” He shut the door and started the car. He wanted to be on the road as soon as possible.

A demon walked out from among the trees.

“You shouldn’t have let him go,” he said to Meg.

“I couldn’t make him stay. He’s strong, stronger than any time before… Besides, it would be more beneficial if he were back by his brother’s side. I’m going to find Dean and tell him about Sam. If Dean hurries up, he’ll catch up with him easily. Something new about Crowley?”

The demon shook his head. “Nothing yet, but there was an activity in South Dakota. Maybe we should check it out.”

“Get Zack and Greg and go. I’ll meet you later,” Meg said and strode among the trees herself.

*

“Holly crap!” Dean yelled as he hit the brake. The woman standing on the road just smiled at him and got in the passenger’s seat.

“Hey, Dean. Long time no see.”

Dean frowned. “What are you doing here, Meg? Looking for a shortcut to Hell?”

Meg tsked and shook her head. “Actually… I heard you’re looking for your brother. Any luck?” Her smile widened.

Dean glared, but something told him not to kill the bitch right away. She looked pretty smug, maybe she knew something.

“What do you want?” he asked with hostility.

She smiled sweetly. “Come on, Dean. We used to be friends…”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Don’t want me to laugh.”

“Okay,” Meg said finally, and her expression became serious for once. “I came to tell you that if you step on the gas instead of hitting the brake and go down this road, you have a good chance to find Sam.”

Dean put his both hands on the steering wheel, looking at the road in front of him, tension building up in his guts. “What do you know about Sam?”

“He’s okay for now,” Meg said matter-of-factly.

“What does it mean?”

“That his hunger for blood is satisfied for the time being, but sooner or later he’ll need to kill again.”

Dean stared at Meg. “Wait! What do you mean by ‘kill _again_ ’?”

Meg chuckled. “Do you wanna see what he’s done to that poor bear?”

“He killed a bear?” Huh… What happened to the silver chain?

“Look, I didn’t come to make fun of you,” Meg said, and now she was serious. “Sam is afraid of himself and he’s trying to keep as much of him under control as he can. But he’s wrong. Torturing himself with silver is not a way.”

Dean frowned. “What would you recommend him to do, then?” he asked coldly.

“He’s a killer. He needs to kill or he’ll go insane,” Meg said and then shrugged. “… or he needs a good fuck,” she added with a smirk, glancing at Dean. “Would you let your Sammy fuck you in order to stop him from killing people?”

She barely said that and there was a knife pressed to her throat.

“One more word and I’ll slit your throat,” Dean threatened, but the demon just smiled.

“I just offered you a way to keep Sam sane and as much human as possible,” Meg said as though she didn’t even care that the knife Dean was pressing against her skin could kill her easily. “You should hurry. Time is ticking off and the sun will set early. Sam would use his silver chain again and there would be no one to take it off for him this time.”

Dean pulled the knife away hesitantly. “When was the last time you’ve seen Sam?”

“This morning.”

“How far can he be?”

Meg shrugged. “Depends. In any case, you should find him till the sunset.”

Dean nodded. “Now get out of my car.”

Meg smirked. “It’s not your car.” But she was already opening the door. She slid out from the vehicle like a cat and looked at Dean one more time. “You’re welcome.” She chuckled.

Dean grunted something unintelligible and started the engine. There were more important things to do than thanking a demon.

*

Sam parked the car in the shadows of high trees. He assumed that he was out of the reach of Dean’s radar finally, so he wanted to indulge in the sight of the setting sun. Maybe he was being sentimental, but there was something about the beauty of the day turning into the night that could bring peace to Sam’s troubled mind. He thought of the times when he could watch the red, dying rays reflecting from the Impala’s black hood. He and Dean would lean against her frame and drink beer in pleasant quietness, never voicing how much they valued such moments when the only thing that mattered was that they could be together. No heated words, no fights and no running away – just two of them sharing the joys and fears the life brought upon them.

They got stuck together after Sam left Stanford and none of them ever complained. They learned to be a team, two parts of one body. They became brothers again.

And then Sam fucked up everything by teaming up with a demon and bringing Apocalypse on their heads…

They had to start from the beginning. If there was God somewhere, only he knew how much effort it took.

And now things got messed up one more time and there was no going back to what they were once and always wanted to be. Dean would hate him, but it was okay as long as it kept him away. Sam loved his brother more than anyone and anything and he didn’t want to see his disappointed face ever again. Sam disappointed him too many times by now. He did the right thing when he left; it was better like this. For both of them.

If Sam hadn’t been so deep in thoughts, he would have noticed a car storming down the road a lot earlier. He stepped back into the shadows of the trees, but the brakes were already screeching and the car skidded to a halt on the side of the road and one very pissed Dean got out.

Sam’s eyes widened and he made another step back.

Dean… He was striding to Sam swiftly and he was the true embodiment of the God of Wrath.

“Dean,” Sam said and gulped as Dean stood in front of him with his fists clenched. He seemed he wanted to say something, but Sam was quicker:

“What are you doing here? You shouldn’t have come…”

A sharp pain made him see shooting stars and he lost his balance. As the punch sent him backwards, he hit the car behind his back (fuck, he hadn’t realized how close to the road he had parked) and landed hard on his ass. He groaned quietly and glanced at his brother. Dean was rubbing the knuckles that had collided with Sam’s jaw just a while ago with his other hand, but his eyes were still fixed on Sam.

“That felt good,” he said finally. “Take your things and get into my car.”

Sam stood up slowly. He knew the pain would be over soon, not talking about the bruise. By the time of his change there would be no evidence of Dean’s anger on his body.

“No,” he said, eying his brother intently.

Dean glowered. “You’ll do what I say or I’ll punch you again. And if it doesn’t help, I’ll repeat it gladly in order to beat some sense into that empty head of yours.”

Dean may have been shorter, but when he was pissed, especially pissed like this, he always looked like he had grown up a whole foot and Sam was just a little kid not even reaching his waist. And pissing Dean more in such a state was never a good idea.

Sam retrieved his duffel and followed Dean to the mentioned car wordlessly. They got in and Dean started the engine.

There was awkward silence for a long time until Sam spoke in a low voice:

“You shouldn’t have followed me.”

“Shut up,” Dean snapped, and that was the end of their conversation.

They got into a town. Dean parked in front of a motel and was about to get out when Sam spoke to him again:

“Dude, you must be kidding!”

“Do I laugh?” asked Dean, his expression dead serious. “Wait here. No running away unless you want me to pacify you with a silver bullet, understood?” And that sounded dead serious as well.

Sam nodded, saying nothing.

“Good,” Dean said and walked into the motel.

He returned in a while, not saying anything to Sam, just pulling the car in front of their room.

They were still silent even when they got in. Sam sat down on his bed, waiting for Dean to say something, but Dean didn’t seem to pay him any attention – as if Sam wasn’t even there. He took out a laptop, putting it on a table and starting it. Since Sam had left it behind, it counted as Dean’s possession.

Sam was watching him with curious eyes, but was afraid to say anything. Minutes were going by one by one and Sam got the feeling that the silence lasted too long already. The sky outside was turning gray, and the old, unpleasant chill started crawling up Sam’s spine. He reached for his duffel and started rummaging through the things he got there until he found the silver chain wrapped in a piece of cloth. He glanced at the darkening sky behind the window and noticed Dean watching him.

“It’s silver, isn’t it?” Dean asked, his voice sounding calmer, but still as cold as ice.

Sam nodded silently.

“Bring it here.”

Sam raised his eyes from the cloth in his hand and looked at Dean.

“Bring it here,” Dean repeated more strictly.

Sam stood up and walked to the table. He put the cloth next to the laptop. Dean reached for it immediately, taking the silver chain out from its safety as though he wanted to make sure it really was the thing Sam told him it was. The D-shaped pendant glistened in the orange sunlight penetrating inside. Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Your name doesn’t start with D,” he said, the edge in his voice forgotten for a moment. “Does it stand for dumbass? It would make sense in that case.”

Sam frowned and wanted to snatch the chain out from Dean’s hand, not caring that it would burn his hand. He was going to wear it in a few minutes, anyway.

Dean was faster and pulled the chain out of Sam’s reach.

“I’m confiscating it,” he said in that calm but icy voice of his.

Sam froze. “What? You can’t!”

“I can and I do. Get over it.”

“Dean, it’s…” Desperation crept into Sam’s voice and his eyes never left the silver pendant hanging from the damn chain. “It’s the only thing that can hold me back.” He stifled a sob. Dean would never have forgiven him if he had started weeping like a girl now.

Dean frowned. “I still have my gun loaded with silver bullets if that’s what you miss,” he said. “Now pull yourself together, we’re going out.”

Sam’s eyes widened and he gave Dean a look that said he had doubts about his brother’s sanity. “You can’t be serious.”

Dean quirked his eyebrows as he was already standing at the door. “Can’t I?” It sounded dangerous and there was an obvious warning for Sam not to tell Dean what he could or couldn’t be or do.

“What if I…” Sam started, only hesitantly following Dean out from the room.

“You won’t,” Dean said, and there was so much conviction in his voice that Sam wondered whether Dean had found a way out from Sam’s situation.

“Where are we going?” he asked curiously after he joined Dean in the car, and they moved on the road.

Dean shrugged indifferently. “To a brothel.”

Sam almost choked. “What?”

“I talked to Meg…” Dean admitted sheepishly, not looking at Sam. “She told me that you need a kill or a good fuck. The first one is not an option…”

“… so you decided I’m getting laid tonight,” Sam finished, and this time it was his turn to be pissed.

Dean glanced at Sam. “Let’s give it a shot, okay?”

“I don’t want to give it a shot,” Sam snapped. “Crap, Dean. What a stupid idea! I’m so scared I can hurt someone that I doubt I’ll even get hard. You could let me have the chain and get through the night somehow. Would be safer.”

Dean’s frown was enough of an answer. “If you hadn’t run away, we could’ve figured out something by now. Something else than silver chain,” he spat. “Now put up with the fact that we don’t have any time to waste right now and we have to try what we are offered. We’ll go there, I’ll pay for the best girl, and you’ll have your happy hour. I’ll be waiting outside the room with my gun prepared if something went wrong. Then we’ll go back, you’ll go to sleep and I’ll stay awake to keep an eye on you.”

Sam huffed and frowned at the road in front of them. “I still don’t like the idea.”

“You should’ve thought about it earlier.”   

They spent the rest of the short ride in silence. Sam was frowning, and Dean hoped that what they were going to do would keep them out of trouble for one night. He parked in front of a house with a neon red rose shining above the entrance. He gave Sam a small smile, but Sam just glared, getting out from the car nevertheless.

*

Dean walked into the building and only when he was inside, he realized how close behind him Sam was, looking around warily and… yeah, he was sniffing the air. There was an obvious tension in his shoulders and he reminded Dean of a frightened animal watching out for danger. For a half-second Dean felt something like sympathy for Sam, but it was over as soon as it came. They were on a mission here and if Sam didn’t get laid, only God knew what he might have done. On the other hand, demons lied and Dean didn’t have time to verify the truth. Anyway, who would complain when they had a chance to have sex? Obviously, Sam would. Even if he kept his mouth shut, his body was sending a clear massage to anyone who paid attention.

“Stop it,” Dean hissed. “Be natural.”

The look Sam gave him was nothing of Dean’s little brother. He was scared and unsure, but there was also deep trust in his eyes Dean had never seen before and he wondered whether it was only he having been too ignorant or the animal within Sam that made his brother an open book to anyone who looked closely.

“It will be fine, okay?” he said. Sam’s reply was a small nod, but he didn’t stop looking tense and prepared to defend himself if someone jumped him.

Dean sighed and walked to the bar.

“The way to heaven?” he asked with a broad smile and the bartender only beckoned to the door near the bar.

“Thanks,” Dean said and patted Sam’s arm. Even through a few layers of fabric could he feel how hard Sam’s muscles were.

“Easy,” Dean whispered and led Sam through the door.

The room they entered wasn’t any different from the one they had just left except the half-naked girls occupying it. Dean smiled contentedly and walked over to the counter where an elderly but good looking woman sat and was checking something in a big notebook in front of her.

“Hey,” Dean said, giving her the charming smile he usually used on people (women) when he wanted something from them. He felt Sam close behind him – well, the rub of his chest on Dean’s back was hard to not notice.

The woman looked up from her notebook, waiting for Dean to continue.

“I want the best girl you have here to teach the Sasquatch some useful things,” he said, grabbing Sam’s arm and pulling him out from his hiding place behind Dean’s back.

The woman sized Sam up and then looked back at Dean.

“Sally’s with a customer now,” she said indifferently.

“Dean, let’s go back,” Sam whispered next to him.

“Shut up,” Dean hissed and smiled at the woman again, pulling out a roll of notes, putting them on the counter. “She’ll surely find some time for the big boy here.”

The woman looked at the money with interest.

“Maybe she could blow him…”

Dean sighed and pulled out a few more notes, only vaguely registering Sam stepping nervously beside him. The woman raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Dean frowned and put a new roll beside the first one. The woman snatched the money from the counter immediately and started counting them. Then she nodded.

“One hour of full service. No extras.”

Dean grinned. “Perfect.”

The woman stood up and led them up a staircase to the first floor. Sam seemed to want to say something, but one warning glance from Dean prevented him from opening his mouth. His body language was enough, anyway.

They followed the brothel keeper into a corridor with many doors. Sounds of pleasure were echoing from every direction. Dean was avoiding looking at Sam the whole time, but it was hard ignoring him when Sam was walking so close behind him that Dean could literally feel his warm breath on the nape of his neck.

The woman stopped in front of one room. She glanced at the brothers, her look surprised and curious, but then she burst into the room without knocking.

“Your time’s up, mister.”

Dean peeped into the room. A tiny brunette was kneeling in front of a naked bulky guy with his cock of a respectable size pointing to heavens. Dean assumed it wasn’t the best time to burst in, but whatever. Sam was getting laid. Soon. That was all that mattered.

“I don’t like this,” he heard Sam very close to his ear.

“The girl seems skilled. Give her a chance, Sammy,” he said, and his voice sounded shallow even to him.

Sam stayed quiet, but he was still too close to Dean, still scared and tense and trusting.

“You’ll feel better,” Dean said, and yes, he believed that. Who wouldn’t have felt good after sex? Only a fool who couldn’t (or didn’t want to) enjoy it. Though, Dean was kind of sure Sam belonged into the latter category, because he surely didn’t look like someone who could enjoy anything right now, maybe except a strong drink. And maybe not even that.

The guy in the room got dressed, cursing and complaining. Dean gave him an innocent smile and while the brothel keeper took care of the guy, he finally found the courage to face Sam’s puppy eyes. Hell, if Sam ruled in something, it was definitely his puppy look. Even cold-hearted bastards would melt…

Dean took a deep breath and patted Sam’s shoulder, giving him a broad but fake smile. He knew Sam would recognize it right away, but Dean didn’t care. “Enjoy your happy hour. I’ll be outside in case something went wrong, okay?”

“Silver bullets?” Sam asked, not moving from his spot.

Dean rolled his eyes. “My gun is fully loaded with them. Now stop worrying and go in. The girl is waiting for you and she’s hot.” He winked and pushed Sam forward into the room. He saw Sam giving him the last pleading look before the door was shut behind his back.

Dean sighed. He leaned against the wall next to the door and listened to the sounds from inside. Not that he really could hear something thanks to the loud expressions of pleasure coming from the door across the corridor. Dean grinned for himself, regretting a bit he couldn’t have his own ‘happy hour’.

A blonde girl, coming out from one door, caught his attention. He smiled at her, she smiled back, he waved at her, and she came to him.

“Hey,” she greeted him with a sweet smile.

“Hey,” he said back, smiling as well.

“What are you doing?”

“My brother is inside, I’m waiting for him.”

The girl smiled coquettishly. “Why? Don’t you want to have fun of your own?”

Dean laughed. “You have no idea,” he said. “But I promised him to stay here. He’s a virgin and he’s afraid he could mess up something.” He smiled.

The girl raised an eyebrow. “A caring brother? Nice. Who is taking care of him?”

“Sally, I guess.”

She smiled again. “He’s in good hands, then. Don’t worry, Sally will make a champ out of him. And you…” She leaned closer. Dean could smell a mint chewing gum and a cheap perfume.

“I’d love, really, but you know… The kid would give me a hell of time if he found out I betrayed his trust.”

“That’s a shame,” the girl said. “I could make you feel good.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Dean said, and that was when the door opened abruptly and Sam stormed out, pulling his jacket on.

“I can’t do this,” he said hastily, hurrying down the corridor.

“Wait, Sam!” Dean grabbed his arm. “What happened?”

The puppy face was there again. “I’m sorry, Dean, I can’t.”

“Sam!” Dean called after him as they both ran down the stairs and burst out from the Red Rose into the dusk. “Tell me what happened.”

“Nothing happened,” Sam said, and he sounded broken. “She… she didn’t even touch me and I freaked out. When I imagined her putting her hands on me, I felt like throwing up. I’m sorry…”

“Get in the car,” Dean said, defeated. “We’re going back.”

Sam obeyed but he didn’t look relieved that his request was finally heard. “She smelled awfully,” he said as though he needed to excuse himself.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked as he started the car and pulled on the road.

“She reeked of the man she had been with and she tried to mask that with the smell of a rose perfume, but it was so strong that it made me sick. I’m really sorry.”

Dean sighed. “It’s okay. You tried, it didn’t work.” He shrugged. He felt Sam’s eyes on him, but he didn’t look at his brother.

“Thank you,” he heard the words spoken in a low voice. Dean stayed silent, driving back to the motel.

They didn’t talk even when they got into the room. Dean brought a bottle of whiskey and two glasses, pouring the golden liquid into them. He handed one glass to Sam, who looked like he was going to turn in every minute.

“I don’t want,” Sam said quietly as though he was afraid he could make Dean angry.

Dean didn’t get angry. He shrugged and drank down his own shot before he put Sam’s glass on the table.

“Maybe later,” he said and sat down. “Go to the shower, I’ll go after you.”

Sam nodded, not arguing this time, and in a few minutes he disappeared in the bathroom. Dean was staring at the door long after it was closed behind his brother.

When Sam was finally out from the bathroom after some time, dressed only in a T-shirt and clean boxers with wet hair and dark circles under his eyes, Dean couldn’t prevent himself from feeling protective. Sam reminded him of the kid he had been once and Dean was taking care of. But that was long ago…

Dean reached for the whiskey and poured himself another shot.

“Go to sleep. You look like an advert for sleeping pills.”

Instead of going to bed Sam took a seat at the table.

“I was thinking…” he started, and Dean only thought _Oh God_. If Sam started a sentence like this, there surely was coming something Dean didn’t want to hear.

“You think too much,” he growled, taking a sip from his glass.

Sam fidgeted in his chair before he continued. “I always changed while I was sleeping. Maybe if I stayed awake…”

“Go to sleep, Sam,” Dean said more sharply than he really intended to.

Sam didn’t move, his eyes were fixed on Dean.

“You look like you haven’t slept for a few nights. Sleep while you can. I’ll stay awake to keep an eye on you,” Dean said in a milder tone. He hoped Sam wouldn’t try to argue. Even though Sam didn’t say anything, he still didn’t leave his chair.

Dean stood up and went for his gun lying on a bedside table where he had put it when they got back. He returned to the table and put the gun on it.

“Loaded with silver. You can check if you want.”

Sam looked at Dean and shook his head. He reached for the glass of whiskey Dean offered him before and drank it down.

“You should give me the chain…” he started.

“Forget it.”

Sam said nothing more. He stood up and went to bed, turning his back to Dean as he lay down.

Dean suppressed a sigh. He was watching his brother lying in bed; he could still see the tension in his shoulders, could hear the soft sound of his quick breathing. Sam appeared vulnerable at the moment and Dean hated that. Hated that even more when he knew how strong Sam was and how easily he could kill Dean if he wanted to. Even now. Maybe he should feel intimidated, but this was Sammy and Sammy wasn’t a monster. Even when he had been turned into one.

Minutes were passing by lazily and Dean exchanged the glass for the bottle. He could see that Sam was still awake, maybe trying not to fall asleep and maybe just not being able to. Dean went to switch the lights off and then returned to the table. The laptop was still lying there as he had left it, and Dean turned the thing on. He heard a soft rustle of sheets. Sam turned around, giving his brother a curious look.

“What are you doing?”

“Sleep,” Dean said and took another swig from the bottle. Sam didn’t reply, but Dean still could feel his eyes on himself. He decided to ignore it.

While he was on the guard, he could at least use the time and do some research. Most of the things he already knew, he and Sam had gone through them while they had been hunting the son of a bitch that dared to lay his dirty paw on Dean’s little brother, but the things they had found out were too general. Dean hoped he would find something more specific.

The thing they had hunted and the thing Sam had become was some kind of a European cousin of the werewolves they had met so far. Lycanthropos, varkolak, kurtadam, volkodlak, vlkolak, libahunt, lupo mannaro…

Lycanthropes. Could turn into a hybrid between a man and a wolf or get through the whole transformation just like skinwalkers. Maybe the thing they had dealt with was something between those two types…

The bed squeaked quietly as Sam stood up.

“Sam,” Dean addressed him in an authoritative voice of an older brother.

“I can’t sleep,” Sam said and sat down at the table in front of Dean.

“There are sleeping pills in my duffel…”

“I don’t want any,” Sam said stubbornly, but he could hardly hide the tiredness in his voice.

Dean reached for the bottle again. “Whatever…”

Sam took a deep breath and Dean knew what was coming. He gave Sam a sharp look. “Go to sleep or shut up.”

“But…”

“Not now, Sam. I don’t wanna talk about it right now, okay?”

Sam nodded. Obviously, he was too tired even to argue. Dean tried to ignore him, but it was hard when those sleepy eyes were fixed on him. He shut the laptop. Sam’s look turned from sleepy to wary.

“I was trying to find out something useful.”

Sam didn’t need to say anything for Dean to know that he understood what that meant.

“Go to bed, Sammy,” Dean said more gently. He was still pissed, but anger was not getting them anywhere. And Sam needed to rest even though the bastard was as stubborn as a mule and scared on the top of that so that made him even more persistent.

“I’m not a kid, Dean.”

“Yeah? You act like one.”

Sam straightened up in his chair, a strange sparkle flashed in his eyes. Before he could say anything, Dean stopped him with his own words:

“Have you had a good look at yourself in a mirror lately? You look like crap.”

The sparkle disappeared and the circles under Sam’s eyes darkened even more. “I can’t sleep,” he whispered.

 _You’re too scared to fall asleep,_ Dean thought. He understood Sam. He understood his fear of hurting someone (he went through the same when he had been turned into a vampire), but torturing himself to slow death was hardly a solution. Apparently, talking some sense into Sam right now was a futile effort and Dean really didn’t feel like arguing.

“Okay, stay awake,” he said, but it didn’t mean he gave up. He stood up and brought Sam a comforter. Maybe if he could make his brother feel as comfortable as possible, Sam would fall asleep eventually even if he didn’t intend to. Dean hoped that Sam’s tiredness was bigger than his stubbornness. He was given a puzzled look, but this time Dean’s brother didn’t try to object and wrapped himself into the comforter.

Dean returned in his seat and opened the laptop again, not caring about Sam anymore.

Back to the research: Lycanthropes could transform a) on the full moon (but in the past year they had already seen a werewolf shifting on the half-moon as well) b) under the influence of their mental and emotional state. They already knew that b) was right in this case, which unsettled Dean even more. 

All the types shared the super strength and the mortal vulnerability to silver. Note: Don’t piss Sam and don’t let him come near anything silver.

He glanced at his brother over the screen. Sam was still fighting his sleepiness, watching Dean from under the heavy eyelids. _Hmpf, stubborn kid…_

Time was going by without Dean realizing how late (or early?) it already was when he glanced at Sam again. Sam’s head was hanging down and his breathing was slow and too regular for someone who was still awake. Dean smiled and moved his attention back to the screen. He was trying to find some cure or anything that would prevent Sam from shifting (or at least shifting too often), but the only thing he could find was just the various ways to kill a werewolf. Various ways, but the basic was the same: the use of silver. The lore about European werewolves also varied from culture to culture. According to some legends, werewolves were vampires who woke up from their grave and drank the blood of their victims while in a wolf form.

“Which one of those sons of bitches are you, Sammy?” he muttered as he looked through a few more web sites.

There was another legend, talking about good werewolves killing evil witches in order to protect people. From everything Dean had read that night this was the most hopeful thing he could find. If Sam needed to kill, than letting him take care of the evil they were hunting was probably the best solution for the time being until Dean found the cure. If there was any at all…

He stood up and came up to the window. The sky was already colored in pink and light orange as the sun was coming out from behind the buildings. Dean turned around and looked at Sam. It was time to get him to bed and hopefully the kid wouldn’t be bitching anymore.

He walked to Sam and touched his shoulder lightly. “Sam. Sammy.”

Sam flinched and looked at Dean with frightened eyes. “I… Did I…?”

“No, you didn’t.” And that left Dean with a few questions. “It’s morning. Go to bed.”

Sam rubbed his eyes and stood up, the comforter slid from his shoulders. Dean picked it up as it fell down on the floor. Sam didn’t seem to notice. He fell on his bed, drifting off immediately. Dean sighed and cast the comforter over his brother’s big body. Sam gave a strange sound, something between a whine and a growl, but he didn’t wake up.

Dean sat down on his own bed, thinking. The fact that Sam hadn’t transformed that night could prove either that he had been right and he really was shifting only while he was blissfully unconscious or that Meg had been right and Sam really needed to kill someone or something to keep the wolf within him under control. Which one was it, then? Dean only knew he couldn’t let Sam get exhausted to death… which the idiot was obviously trying to do.

While Sam was sleeping, Dean decided to use the time and get some sleep as well. But first things first. He dug handcuffs from his duffel bag (one never knew when he could need them) and cuffed Sam to the bed. Job done, he could go to sleep now.

Sam breathed in and lifted his head. “What…?”

Dean gave him a sweet smile. “I’m gonna take a nap so I needed to make sure you wouldn’t get any funny ideas meanwhile. Like running away for example.”

“That’s stupid,” Sam huffed into the pillow. “You know the cuffs won’t hold me back.”  

That was true.

“Then I’ll have to trust you,” Dean replied, getting into his own bed. Their looks met, but then his brother exhaled slowly and closed his eyes. Dean waited until Sam’s breathing evened and only then allowed himself to doze off as well.

 


	2. Home Is Where You Are

It was long after noon when Dean woke up. His first look belonged to the other bed where Sam was still snoring quietly into his pillow. Dean sat up and ran his hand through his hair, giving a long sigh. Sam wriggled in his sleep as if he could hear the soft sound, but he didn’t open his eyes so Dean didn’t know.

He stood up and went into the bathroom to have a quick shower. When he came back, fresh and fully clothed, he noticed Sam was already awake, watching Dean carefully and with as much interest as Dean had never seen. The hazel-green of Sam’s eyes was bright and open, rimmed with blue of innocence and curiosity. Dean had no freaking idea what the look could possibly mean. The black circles that had been decorating the skin under Sam’s eyes disappeared, which made the blackness of the pupils even deeper and more mysterious.

Was that a werewolf thing or was it Dean never having noticed it before? Or it could be Sam never having shown this part of his personality.

The innocent blue was mixing with watchful hazel-green more and more until Dean could see the same person who he knew and had always protected. The person in the bed turned back into Sam, Dean’s little brother, and Dean exhaled, not even realizing that he had been holding his breath.

Sam rattled the handcuffs binding him to the bed, letting Dean know that it was time to take them off. Dean gave a slight nod. He picked up his duffel from the floor and rummaged through its contents until he found the key from the cuffs. Sam was free in less than a minute and he was pulling on his jeans, not looking at Dean again. He looked out from the window instead and Dean could guess easily what he was thinking about.

“How are you?” he asked, watching his brother’s empty expression.

“Fine. I’m fine,” Sam said, turning away from the window.

“That’s good,” Dean said and grabbed his jacket. “Do you feel like having some meal now? Because, man, I’m starving.”

He really hoped that the words would bring at least a crack of smile on Sam’s face, but his brother’s expression only turned grim.

“Sure,” Sam said finally. “I’m hungry, too.”

Dean nodded, feeling disappointed. He felt a spark of the anger from yesterday, but he didn’t allow it to grow into a fire.

“Let’s go,” he said blankly and walked out of the room with Sam following.

*

The diner was nice and cozy. They ordered their breakfast (or having in mind that it was already afternoon Dean called it a snack) and when the waitress came with their coffee, Sam snatched after the cup, not even wincing when the hot beverage touched his lips. _That must be a werewolf thing,_ Dean thought. He smiled at the waitress apologetically, thanking her. She smiled back and that was when Sam obviously stopped drinking, the watchful hazel-green glistening over the edge of the cup.

The waitress walked away and Sam’s look followed her until she disappeared behind the counter.

“Do you like her?” Dean asked, hoping for a new opportunity to keep the monster inside Sam calm.

Sam’s eyes darkened as his pupils widened. He put the cup down slowly and looked at Dean warily.

“No,” he said after a while. “Too much perfume.”

“If she showered before…” Dean started in the teasing voice of his, but was cut off immediately:

“No. Even thinking of her makes me sick.”  

Dean didn’t understand that. The chick was hot and her perfume was nothing strong and vulgar, but maybe it was another werewolf thing – sharp senses were one of their characteristics so maybe that was the problem. Sam could smell what Dean couldn’t. Dean decided it was surely like that and he shrugged indifferently.

The waitress returned after a while with their meals. If Sam hadn’t had any interest in her, Dean didn’t need to feel guilty for flirting with her. When they got to the point when she was going to write her number on a napkin, she glanced to the other side of the table where Sam was sitting and suddenly decided that it wasn’t a good idea and walked away quickly.

Dean stayed perplexed, looking after her, but then he turned to Sam chomping on his food, looking as innocent as a kid playing in a playground.

“What did you do?” he asked harshly.

Sam looked up from his meal and gave Dean a look saying that he had no idea what his brother was talking about.

“Sam,” Dean addressed him sternly.

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe she simply changed her mind.”

“Right after she glanced at you,” Dean said wryly. “What did you do?”

“Nothing. I did nothing. Maybe she just realized she liked me more.”

Dean gave Sam a sarcastic smile. “Yeah, right.”

Sam shrugged and somehow he seemed to be in a better mood than a while ago.  However, there was no trace of innocent blue in his eyes.

*

They returned back into the motel. Dean decided to stay there one more night since it was already too late to go anywhere. Sam didn’t say a word about it, but Dean noticed his movements became more careful… more controlled. The tension in Sam’s shoulders was back and the eyes were turning deep green with every hour that was driving them closer to the sunset.

Sam didn’t try to argue that night. They ate supper in silence and drank some beer, Dean pulled out the laptop and Sam went to shower. The sun had disappeared behind the horizon long ago and Dean wondered whether this night was going to be as peaceful as the last one.

When Sam got out from the bathroom, he looked at Dean questioningly. Dean understood the look. He nodded and showed Sam his gun loaded with silver bullets. Sam nodded back and climbed into his bed.

Dean watched him for a long time. This obedient Sam was suspicious. He either felt guilty or something was up. Or… he was just tired, still hadn’t slept enough.

“Sammy,” Dean whispered, partly hoping Sam wouldn’t hear. No response came, so Dean guessed his brother was really asleep. He sighed. Sam was sleeping and he was awake. Dean didn’t feel tired – for now – but he wasn’t sure how long he would be able to guard Sam every night.

He looked at the computer screen with a few open websites talking about werewolves all over the world, but the information was always the same and there was no clue about any cure for an afflicted person. The only weakness: silver.

Dean ran a hand over his face in frustration. He wasn’t prepared to accept the fact there might have been no cure for his brother and therefore he would have to end Sam’s life.

Dean’s look trailed to the bed where Sam was sleeping and… He recoiled. How long had Sam been awake, sitting on the bed and watching Dean? There was something strange in his eyes, something Dean couldn’t define; he just knew that it wasn’t a look of his little brother.

“Sam?”

Sam stood up and came up to the window, opening it and peering out into the darkness.

“The night is cold,” he said and sniffed the air.

Dean reached for the gun lying beside the computer.

“Go back to bed, Sam,” he said strictly.

Sam looked at him and smiled. The smile was warm and reassuring… and absolutely not Sam. Instead of going back to bed, Sam reached for the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it off.

“What the…? Sam?”

But Sam was already reaching for his boxers.

“Sam!” What the hell was going on?

Sam let the boxers slid down from his hips and Dean had a perfect view at his brother’s pride. _Oh God, how did I deserve this?_ he groaned in his mind and stood up from the chair, taking the gun.

“Sam, what are you doing?”

Sam kicked the boxers away and looked out from the window again, leaning against the windowsill. Dean’s eyes widened with understanding and he raised the gun.

“Go back to bed, Sam, or I’ll shoot,” he warned and aimed.

Sam gave him that strange smile again. “You won’t,” he said with strong conviction in his voice and jumped out.

“SAM!” Dean yelled and ran to the window. What he saw was a big wolf-like creature running across the parking lot like there was a demon army at its tail. “Get the hell back, you bitch!”

“Shut up, pervert!” sounded from the next room.

“Crap,” Dean cursed and tucked the gun into the back side of his jeans. He grabbed his jacket and stormed out from the room.

When he got out, he looked around the parking lot, but there was no sign of Sam anymore. Dean got into the car quickly and pulled on the road, taking the direction where he had seen Sam disappear.

He was driving slowly the night streets, searching for any sign that could tell him that Sam had been there, but there was peace everywhere. People were hitting bars and enjoying the night life, none of them knowing that there was a hunting werewolf hidden somewhere in shadows.

And then he saw her, the waitress from the diner that had wanted to give Dean her number. She came out from a bar with a bunch of friends, said her good night and walked down the street. Dean watched her graceful walk, the swing of her hips, the smile on her face and the dreamy expression as she was thinking about something nice: maybe a hot bath, maybe silky sheets, and maybe a hot guy who had called her instead of Dean.

And finally Dean spotted him, a big silvery wolf on the other side of the road with a funnily short tail, long snow-white fangs and strong muscles under his skin. His every move and every step were talking about a dangerous predator following his prey.

Dean wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do; he only knew that he couldn’t let Sam hurt the girl. He parked the car on the side of the road and got out silently, taking out the gun in case he needed it. He was sure he would need it. What he wasn’t sure about was whether he would be able to shoot his own brother in order to protect a stranger.

Meanwhile the wolf ran ahead of the girl, disappearing from Dean’s sight suddenly. Dean cursed. The best thing he could do was to follow the girl.

The street got empty, there was only the girl and Dean and the werewolf somewhere close and hungry for blood.

The girl suddenly stopped, staring into the dark shadow of a tree. Something glistened there and the wolf came out into the light. The girl was standing there like she was petrified.

Dean sneaked up closer, hiding behind a car parked on the other side of the road and aimed the gun at the wolf, his finger on the trigger indecisive. _Dammit!_   He was waiting for the wolf to attack and giving Dean no choice but to shoot, or for the girl to run and Sam running after her and thus giving Dean a reason to pull the trigger. Dean had a bad feeling that this night was going to end with Sam’s blood on his hands and there was nothing that could prevent him from doing it.

The wolf made a step forward, slow but self-confident, his eyes fixed on the girl with a perverted joy of a predator playing with his prey.

“Woof!” sounded a deep bark, and the wolf jumped forward a little. The girl squealed in horror and started running back from where she came.

Dean’s finger on the trigger trembled, but he still didn’t shoot. Sam wagged his short tail in some kind of amusement and he opened his mouth, the pink tongue rolling out. He didn’t run after the girl.   

Dean was staring at him, perplexed. _What the hell?_

The wolf sniffed the air and turned his head in the direction where Dean was hidden behind the car. He wagged his tale again and obviously satisfied with himself he retreated into the shadow of the tree again.

Dean waited for a while until he saw him again on his own side of the road. Dean aimed his gun, but the only thing Sam did was that he gave his older (and human) brother a confident look that was an obvious challenge, and when Dean didn’t pull the trigger, he simply turned around and trotted down the street with Dean following, keeping safe distance.

Suddenly Sam stopped, sniffing the air feverishly, then glancing at Dean over his shoulder and then crossing he road one more time and running down the street. Dean didn’t hesitate and ran after him. Sam quickened and Dean had no choice but to do the same in order not to lose him.

Finally, he could see where Sam was heading and he could hear the frightened voice of the girl they had followed, begging someone to have mercy and not to kill her. A guy was standing behind her, pressing a knife to her throat.

Dean would have shouted at him in order to catch his attention and tried to help the girl, but there was a werewolf between him and the attacker and his victim. And the werewolf was big and strong and pissed. The moment the guy noticed him (who wouldn’t have noticed two hundred pounds storming at them with a bloodthirsty look in the eyes?) he threw the girl away and raised the hand with the knife in defense against the enraged werewolf. _Fool._

“Sam, no!” Dean cried, and he stopped running, aiming his gun for maybe the tenth time that day.

He didn’t expect the werewolf to listen to him and Sam really didn’t. He pounced on the man and knocked him down, pushing him to the ground with his front paws and snarling sinisterly. The girl crawled away from the guy and the werewolf, tears were streaking down her face.

“Run!” Dean yelled at her, and she didn’t wait for more encouragement. She stood up and got lost from there as fast as possible.

A whine and the deep, menacing growl that followed made Dean concentrate on the guy and the totally pissed-off werewolf. A handle of the knife was sticking out from Sam’s side, but the only effect it had on the werewolf was that the beast tightened his claws on the guy’s chest, fury and bloodlust reflecting in his mad eyes.

“Sam, no! SAM!”

BANG!!!

An ear-splitting squeal echoed and the legs supporting Sam’s weight bent under him. The wolf fell down on the cold pavement.

“Sam!”

The guy was already standing up, throwing a disgusted look at the huge wolf lying helplessly on the ground. He looked like he was preparing himself to finish Sam off whereas the werewolf was unable to hurt him anymore.

Dean raised the gun and aimed at the guy.

“The moment you touch him you die,” he threatened. “Get lost.”

The guy hesitated just for a moment, but then he turned around and ran away.

Dean lowered the gun and ran to Sam. He threw himself on the ground next to him.

“Sam. Sammy. Hang on,” he was talking to him gently while his fingers were fumbling over the wound on Sam’s shoulder blade. The wound itself wasn’t mortal, but the presence of silver was making Sam weak. The other injury would have been much worse if Sam was still human, but thanks to the silver it was probably equally dangerous now. The knife was still sticking from the wound, but Dean was afraid to pull it out in case it would start bleeding and he wouldn’t be able to stop it until he got Sam back into the motel room.

“Hang on, Sammy, hang on,” Dean was repeating like it was some mantra. He took of his jacket and covered Sam with it.

“Hang on. I’ll be right back with the car. Do you hear me? Don’t leave me, Sammy. Just lie still. I’ll be right back.”

Sam gave a quiet, painful whine, his body was trembling uncontrollably. Dean stood up and ran down the street to get the car.

It took him only a few minutes to get back. He opened the back door and crouched beside Sam, stroking lightly his thick, silvery fur.

“Come on, Sammy. We have to get you back home.”

He put his hand slowly under Sam’s heavy wolf body and lifted him a bit. This was not going to be easy. Sam whined quietly. Dean finally managed to lift the wolf from the ground and get him in the back seat of the car carefully. Sam was still trembling, whining under Dean’s jacket.

“It will be okay, everything will be okay. I’ll take care of you,” Dean was repeating the reassuring words even when he got behind the wheel and hurried back to the motel.

Getting the heavy werewolf out from the car and into the room was harder than getting him into the car. Sam’s breathing was slow and shallow, his eyes shut, and he seemed close to passing out when Dean moved him. He didn’t even have strength to whine, but he was still trembling in pain.

“Hold on, Sammy, we’re almost there,” Dean said to him gently as he returned for Sam after he left the door into the room open.

He wanted to be as gentle and careful as possible, but it was really difficult. His priority was to get Sam in as fast as he could and take care of his injuries so he decided not to bother with gentleness if it meant he was slow. Having Sam’s whole weight in his arms was like trying to carry a bus. Full of passengers.

“You should lose some weight, dude,” he grumbled after he more like threw than put the wolf on Sam’s bed. Sam gave a painful exhale but no sound.

Dean’s heart was beating somewhere in his throat. He brought the first-aid kit and sat down on the bed next to Sam. He touched lightly his wolf face, trailing an invisible line down his neck to the shoulder blade.

“It’s okay, Sam, I’ll take care of you,” he whispered and reached for scissors, carefully cutting off the fur around the wound. When he was done, he brought Bobby’s old flask with the rest of the whiskey Dean had been drinking before and poured it on the wound. Sam whined and Dean buried his hand into the soft fur.

“Shhh, it’ll be okay. You’ll be all right,” he said soothingly and reached for tweezers. He took a deep breath. This was the hardest part.

He climbed onto the bed and straddled the wolf’s body to keep him in place. Sam was shaking violently under him. Dean blamed it on the pain, but it could be also fear. Sam’s eyes were wide and dark and Dean cursed and hoped for blissful unconsciousness for Sam.

“Hold on, Sammy.” He inserted the tweezers into the wound. Sam gave a high-pitched inhuman shriek and Dean hesitated.

“Sammy, we have to do this,” he said with an apology in the undertone.

The werewolf’s breathing was now quick and irregular, his muscles contracted in spasm. Dean had to use more weight to push him into the mattress to make him lie still. He needed to do this fast.

He pushed the tweezers into the wound uncompromisingly. The wound wasn’t deep (thanks to the bone that stopped the bullet), but it took Dean an agonizingly long time to get a good hold of the bitch there. Sam was shrieking in pain under him, eyes wide and unfocused, his whole body rigid and shaking.

“I’m almost there, Sammy. Hold on just a bit more,” Dean said and pulled the bullet out slowly. Sam screamed, making the feeling of guilt that had settled in Dean’s heart even more unbearable. With his every whine, every tremble and every breath Dean hated himself more and more for hurting the only person he still had. For hurting Sammy, whom he was supposed to protect. But what else could he do?

He pulled out the tweezers a bit harder than he intended to. Sam squealed one more time and then finally fell silent. At first Dean thought that he passed out, but Sam’s round eyes and still too quick breathing told him that it was a false hope.

Sam tensed in a new attack of cramp and the body Dean was straddling was suddenly human. Sam groaned, digging his fingers into the sheets. Cold sweat was rolling down his forehead and he didn’t seem to register anything than pain.

Dean got off his brother quickly and ran his fingers through Sam’s hair.

“Brave boy,” he said gently, wiping the sweat away from Sam’s forehead with his bare hand. Sam sobbed, completely unaware of this little gesture of affection. No matter what came between them in the past, Dean still loved his brother with the same love. He couldn’t not to love Sam, even though there was so much crap now. But they were trying. They both were trying hard, although it didn’t always get smooth. Most of the time, it didn’t get smooth at all. But as long as they needed each other and were willing to admit that, they could work through it.

Dean found a needle and a threat in the kit and prepared himself for stitching the wound. Sam was still conscious which wasn’t very pleasant to both of them. Dean made him lie on his stomach and straddled him again, trying not to be distracted by Sam’s nakedness.

Sam was trembling and groaning into the pillow while Dean was stitching him up, his fingers still digging into the sheets.

“Just a bit more, Sammy, just a bit more…”

Just a bit more and another wound. There was still the knife sticking out from Sam’s side.

Dean finished his work on the wound from the bullet and released Sam, who was sobbing into the pillow.

“Sammy, we have to take care of that other injury, too,” Dean said softly, running his hand through Sam’s hair again. Sam didn’t respond to the touch.

“Prepare yourself, Sammy, this’ll hurt,” Dean said as he reached for the hilt of the knife. He held it firmly in his hand and took a deep breath. He pulled the knife out carefully so that he didn’t cause any more damage.

Sam screamed and finally he blacked out. Dean breathed a sigh of relief, disinfected the wound with the whiskey and started stitching it up. When he was done, he pulled a comforter over Sam’s naked body. He didn’t care about the mess all around the bed. He was tired and wanted to sleep, he could tidy up the next day.

The moment his head met the soft pillow, Dean didn’t know about himself anymore.

*

He was woken up by a painful groan coming from somewhere nearby. Dean never needed more than a split-second to be fully awake. He sat up and looked at Sam sitting on the other bed, curled up under the comforter and examining the wound on his side. When his eyes met Dean’s, there was more of blue than green in them… and an obvious question.

Dean nodded silently and stood up, heading for the bathroom. He didn’t want to talk right now. He heard Sam groan again, and the sound was tearing him from inside.

He had shot his own brother to save a guy who deserved to be punished for what he wanted to do to that girl. When Dean shot, it wasn’t because he wanted to protect the guy. He wanted to protect Sam from doing something he would regret later, but it didn’t hurt any less even when he was repeating that to himself. He shot Sam and that was the fact.

He splashed his face with cold water and looked into the mirror. The guilty expression was exchanged by the hard mask he always wore when he wanted to hide his true feelings.

He walked out from the bathroom, hoping he was well prepared for Sam’s questions. Because he knew Sam was going to ask.

“What did I do?” was the very first of them.

Dean sighed and sat down on the bed opposite Sam.

“You wanted to teach an asshole who wanted to hurt a hot chick a lesson about good manners,” he said and saw that it didn’t help Sam much to figure out what had really happened.

“There are two wounds…”

“The one on your side was a gift from the guy.” He didn’t need to say that the other one was his doing, Sam figured that out himself. He saw the silver bullet on the bedside table and also the knife.

“Did I…?” he started hesitantly, but Dean interrupted him immediately, freeing him from saying the things Sam was afraid to voice:

“You didn’t. Everyone’s fine.”

Sam gave Dean the look that was talking about how much he wanted to believe that but still had doubts.

“Really. Sam. The only harm done was that you scared crap outta two people. That’s all. So stop worrying now, okay?”

Sam nodded, saying nothing. His look dropped to the sheets dirty with blood, his expression grim. Dean watched him with a heavy feeling in his heart. He had to help Sam out of this… But how? If there really was no cure, they had to find a way to make this work without people getting hurt.

“Sam,” Dean addressed his brother in order to catch his attention again. “I’m going to get something for breakfast. You stay here and rest, okay? No running away.”

Sam’s eyes darkened a bit as he looked at Dean again. He nodded.

“Promise you’ll stay here.”

The hazel-green was overpowered by blue. “I promise.”

“Good.” Dean took his wallet and walked to the door.

“Dean…” sounded Sam’s quiet voice. “Thank you.”

Dean pursed his lips. He knew perfectly well what Sam was thanking him for. It wasn’t the meal Dean was going to bring.

“Bitch,” he growled and left the room, not seeing the crack of a tired smile on Sam’s face.

*

Sam tried to fight the feeling of nausea that settled in his stomach. He wasn’t stupid; he knew that Dean wouldn’t have shot if he hadn’t felt the need to. Someone was in danger last night.

Sam was really lucky that he had Dean with him. He could always rely on his brother, always was safe with him. It was really stupid running from him, and yet Sam felt the familiar fear of hurting the only person he still had. The more he was trying to protect Dean from himself, the deeper he realized how much dependent on him he was. Dean was his everything: his protector, his caretaker, the pain in the ass as well as the best brother in the world.

Sam didn’t know what it meant to have home. He always imagined it like a place where people could always return. For Sam, such a place didn’t exist. For Sam, there was a person to whom he always returned. For Sam, Dean was home. 

He sighed and sat up. The pain in his shoulder made him groan and his side was itching like mad. He thought it was because of the fast healing process. If there was one good thing about being a werewolf, then it was definitely this.

He reached for his duffel to find a clean pair of boxers. After he pulled on his jeans, trying to ignore the pain that was shooting down his arm, he went to the bathroom to splash his face with cold water. He hoped that it would help him against the nausea.

Dean returned soon, bringing some sandwiches and two cups of coffee. Sam ignored the food, but he snatched the coffee out from Dean’s hand, wincing when the injured muscle protested painfully, and took an impatient gulp.

“Hey, easy, easy,” Dean said and set the food on the table. “Have you taken any painkillers?”

Sam shook his head.

“Why not?”

“I’ll be okay soon.”

Dean sat down at the table. “If you say so…”

Sam sat down, too, and reached for the food with his other hand so that he didn’t need to strain his healing muscle. The coffee calmed his stomach and Sam realized how hungry he suddenly was. Dean watched him for a while before he decided to enjoy the ‘happy meal’ together with his brother, but surprisingly, his appetite couldn’t be compared to Sam’s. To be honest, his appetite was quite poor that morning. He stood up from his unfinished burger and went to pack his things, which meant they were leaving. Sam didn’t ask Dean where he wanted to go, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know, anyway. Maybe Dean had no idea himself. Sam finished his meal in silence and then followed Dean’s example.

Most of the ride they spent in silence. Sam noticed that Dean followed his planned direction to north. Were they heading to Canada? Was Dean planning to hide Sam in endless forests there? He was itching to ask, but on the other hand, he was afraid to bring up the issue. He was sure Dean would tell him sooner or later.

They stopped for quick lunch in a diner in one town they were passing and shortly before the night fell over the country, they found a motel on the outskirts of some small town where they wanted to spend the night. They followed the same scenario as the night before: Sam went to sleep while Dean stayed awake as his guard.

Before he crawled into the bed, Sam checked the injuries. The one on his side was almost healed and the other from the silver bullet started itching, so it meant it would heal soon as well.

Dean was sitting at the table with the laptop on, checking various websites again and Sam knew they had nothing to do with porn.

“Any progress?” he asked, and Dean reached for the whiskey bottle standing on the table in front of him, drinking from it, not looking at Sam.

“Just the same crap,” Dean said in the end and put the bottle beside the computer.

Sam didn’t reply. He lost his hope a few days ago, but he didn’t want to take that away from Dean. Hope was the only thing that left. Sam knew he was being selfish, but it felt kind of good knowing that someone cared about him this much. It was good to know it was Dean.

He got in bed and fell asleep immediately, feeling safe with his big brother watching over him. That was all he needed.

*

Dean woke up from a dream about a silver wolf roaming dark streets. Crap, he must have dozed off. He was tired with keeping an eye on his brother. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep doing this: stay awake the whole night long and guard him. He needed a proper night sleep in order to be able to keep going.

He felt someone’s eyes on him and he grabbed the gun lying on the table, scanning the dark room. He noticed a figure sitting on Sam’s bed. The window was open.

“Sam?”

Sam rose from the bed and walked to the table. He was naked; his movements were careful and slow.

Dean aimed.   

“Where have you been, Sam?”

“Just looking around,” Sam said, all tense. “Are you mad?”

Dean couldn’t see him well, but according to the tone of Sam’s voice, he was sure that if there had been enough light, he would have seen puppy dog eyes number two: guilty, probably mixed with number one: begging.      

“What did you do?” he asked strictly.

“Nothing.” Sam’s voice was low and pleading. “I wanted to hunt, but I couldn’t. I wanted to go back home.”

Dean frowned. _What the hell?_

“Stay there,” he said and stood up slowly, his gun still aimed at Sam. He slowly walked to the switch and turned the lights on.

This was the first time Dean got such a prefect view at his brother’s body. Firm muscles covered with smooth skin talking about strength, every vein full of life, the familiar tension in shoulders an obvious warning to the one who would try to hurt him. And the dog puppy eyes begging for trust and forgiveness.

Dean swallowed. How could it come to this – he looking his brother’s body up and down, trying to find any sign that something was wrong: a blood stain, a new wound or just a scratch? Sam crouched a bit, his eyes never leaving Dean’s face, still begging, still asking what Dean was planning to do.

Dean didn’t know. “Come… come here,” he said, his mouth dry.

Sam hesitated, giving a mistrustful look to the gun in Dean’s hand. “I did nothing. I wanted to go home,” he repeated in a pleading voice.

Dean took a deep breath, stepping back to the table and put the gun on it slowly.

Sam exhaled and Dean could read relief in his face; Sam’s whole stance was more relaxed now when he was out from danger of being shot. A crack of smile appeared on his face and before Dean could even react and grab the gun again, Sam invaded his personal space and wound his long arms around him, pressing Dean close and almost suffocating him.

“You would punish me if I hurt someone,” Sam said softly, and Dean could feel his brother’s nose pressed against his neck. Sam took a deep breath and spoke again:

“I didn’t hurt anyone and I came home.” It was supposed to sound reassuring, but Dean still could feel chill running up his spine.

“What were you doing outside?” he asked, trying to take a deep breath.

“Looking for a prey.”

“Did you find it?”

“No. If I had, I would’ve been punished, wouldn’t I? Like the last time…”

“Punished? You mean… the silver bullet?”

“Silver hurts. Burns,” Sam whispered and pulled away, so Dean could finally breathe freely. “I don’t care about silver,” Sam said suddenly. “I returned because I didn’t want to lose my home. I’ve already lost it many times and I don’t want it to happen ever again.”

Dean stepped back, trying to keep safe distance from Sam and his long, bone-crushing arms.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, happy that he survived the hugging attack. What the hell was up with Sam? A werewolf wouldn’t have talked like this. Wouldn’t have _acted_ like this.

“I didn’t do anything and I came back home. I’m safe,” said Sam, looking at Dean with the trust of the kid Dean had taken care of. Then he walked to the bed and crawled under the sheets.

“Sam?”

No response.

Dean sighed. This whole thing was weird…

*

When Sam woke up in the morning and found out that he was naked again, he was close to freaking out and waking Dean up, asking him about the night. But Dean… he had been awake the whole night and he needed to sleep maybe more than Sam did. There was no wound or blood that would tell Sam that he did or wanted to do something terrible at night and… if he had, Dean wouldn’t be sleeping so peacefully on the other bed, right?

He got out from the bed and pulled on his boxers before he went to the bathroom to check on his two wounds. The one on his side was completely healed and there was no sign of it. He tried to figure out how the one after the silver bullet was doing since it wasn’t itching anymore. He turned his back to the mirror and looked over his shoulder. He could see the scar tissue decorating his shoulder blade and he wondered how long it would take until it healed completely.

He sighed and returned into the room to get dressed. Dean was still sleeping and Sam was… bloody hell, he was _starving_! He put on his jacket and ran out from the room to get some food.

*

Dean shot out from the bed when he noticed the other bed was empty, but a soft rustle of a paper bag and casual “Morning”, coming from the other side of the room, calmed him down again. Sam was sitting at the table, chomping on a large burger and his eyes were fixed on the computer screen in front of him. Dean pulled on his jeans and went to join Sam at the table.

“What’re you doin’?” he asked sleepily.

“Just some research,” Sam said, shrugging. Dean wasn’t an idiot to not notice the slight trace of disappointment in the undertone.

“Any luck?”

“The same stuff you may have found. Werewolves are vulnerable to silver and… Did you know there were trials with werewolves in France during Middle Ages?”

“It wasn’t so hard to find something about it,” Dean said dryly.

Sam just nodded and took a big bite from the burger.

“Dean?” he addressed his brother hesitantly. “What did I do last night?” His voice trembled.

Dean stiffened and gave Sam a cautious look. “Nothing. You did nothing,” he said.

“I turned, didn’t I?”

Dean took a deep breath and looked directly at Sam. He couldn’t tell him the truth. Sam would have gotten a wrong idea and run away again.

“No,” he said and reached for one of the plastic cups standing on the table, taking a sip from hot coffee.

“But I… I woke up…” Sam gulped and looked down nervously. “… naked,” he finished in a quiet voice.

Dean held the cup firmer, not giving a crap about the hot beverage burning his hand through the plastic.

“You didn’t change. You wanted to, but I stopped you and you went back to bed,” he lied. He could see that his words didn’t convince Sam.

“How?” his brother asked. “How did you stop me?”

“I threatened you with a silver bullet,” Dean said without hesitation and scanned the table, looking for his own breakfast.

“Aha…” Sam said, his attention moving back to the screen, and Dean just hoped he bought the lie just like he used to believe every crap Dad and Bobby fed him with when they were kids. Sam had been naïve and Dean just hoped that some of that naivety was still there.

“Where’s my breakfast?” he asked, partly to change the topic and partly to get to his late morning meal which he couldn’t find anywhere.

Sam stopped eating and cast a look at the plastic bag on the table, and then his eyes slid to an empty container from a chicken salad, following the path to an empty paper wrapper in which obviously was a burger some time ago. He winced, glancing at the burger he was holding in his hand before his puppy dog eyes met Dean’s.

“I’m sorry…” he said guiltily.

“You’re eating _my_ breakfast?” Dean cried incredulously, but then his expression changed from surprised to angry. “Don’t tell me you’ve wolfed half of MY burger!” he exploded and only then realized what he said.

Sam wriggled in his chair. “I was hungry like a wolf,” he said, ice in his voice, but then he lifted his eyes to Dean and there was no trace of cold anger, just guilt and apology. “I’ll get you a new one,” Sam promised, and Dean only managed to sigh in defeat.

“Don’t worry about it. You were hungry, you ate. Now you’re good,” he said and shrugged. “I can get my own breakfast myself and it’ll be better than what you got for me.” The comment was supposed to lighten up the mood, but it obviously didn’t get to Sam. He put the burger he was feeding on back on the table with that guilty expression of his.

Dean turned his back on him. He wasn’t ready to deal with Sam’s feeling of guilt so early after he got up.

“Finish your breakfast and pack. We’re leaving in half an hour,” he said and walked into the bathroom, hiding from Sam’s apologetic look behind the closed door.

*

Sam was edgy and fidgety the whole day and when Dean asked him what was up, he wasn’t able to give a satisfying answer, every time saying something different. First time, he was hungry. Second time, he was thirsty. Third time, he needed to pee (or maybe just needed to yell at someone as he did at the poor girl at the gas station where they stopped to tank). But the first true sign what might have been wrong was Sam’s comment that he felt like punching someone right in the face and he looked pretty upset about it. Dean recalled Meg’s words and since Sam’s behavior only confirmed what she had said, Dean decided to take another chance and find a one-night stand for Sam.

They barely got into a town and Dean was parking the car in front of a bar. Despite the day hour there were quite many people.

“What are we doing here?” Sam asked as he was following Dean in.

“We’re on a mission here, Sam,” Dean said lightly as he was looking around the place. “We’re getting you a girl.”

Sam tensed immediately. “I don’t want any slut in my bed,” he hissed venomously.

Dean turned to Sam with a surprised expression. This was the first time he heard Sam use such a vocabulary. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I thought you knew what’s wrong,” Sam snapped, and Dean had it finally enough. He walked to the bar, giving a fuck whether Sam was following or not. He was getting on Dean’s nerves the whole day long, he could take care of himself for a while.

He noticed a black-haired hot chick smiling at him. He smiled back and changed his direction from the bar to the girl.

“Hey,” he greeted her.

“Hi.” The girl smiled, sizing him up.

“Alone and bored?” he asked.

She chuckled. “As for the former, I’m here with my friends,” she said and glanced over her shoulder at a group of giggling women. “As for the latter, I _am_ bored. You?”

Before Dean had a chance to reply, someone did it for him:

“He’s here with me.”

The girl’s eyes focused on the person behind Dean’s back and Dean only closed his eyes and counted to three slowly before he opened them again. He could feel Sam’s chest rubbing against his back.

“I gotta go,” the girl said and left hurriedly.

Dean turned around. “What the hell?” he hissed. “You don’t want to get a girl, fine, it’s your choice. But don’t mix when I’m having fun.” He pushed Sam aside and walked to the bar, totally pissed.

“A jealous boyfriend?” the bartender, another hot chick, asked.

“No, an idiotic brother,” Dean said. “I’ll have double whiskey.” 

“Your wish is my command, sweetheart,” the bartender said and smiled wickedly, standing a glass in front of Dean, and she just wanted to pour him the golden liquid with hungry expression in her face, and Dean’s first thought was that if Sam didn’t want to get laid, he definitely did and probably a quickie in a storage room behind the bar wouldn’t be such a risk, but Sam was already there, shoving him aside with more force than he probably intended, Ruby’s knife in his hand, eyes dark and lips curled up, showing his teeth.

“It’s you. I could smell you right from the door.”

The bartender smiled sweetly yet coldly, and Dean understood what was going on here. His eyes jumped from the bartender to Sam and then at the crowd around. There were just few who were watching, but there would be more in a while, more spectators, more witnesses, something they always wanted to avoid.

The demon chick cocked her head and smiled again. “A hunter stays a hunter, right, Sam? Or is it something else that makes you tick? I can hear the excitement rushing through your veins. You can’t wait until you stab me with that knife, can you?”

Sam’s expression hardened and a malevolent smile curled his lips. “That’s right. I can’t wait to kill you.”

“You’re a killer after all. It’s in your blood,” said the demon. “I know what happened to you. You’re restless… and hungry. You want blood, you want to feel life leaving a body, you want to see fear in your prey’s eyes. Just like me, Sammy.”

“Sam, don’t listen to her,” Dean grabbed Sam’s arm to catch his attention. “It’s not true. You’re not like that…” He knew. The scared, begging eyes of the Sam that wanted to go home (wherever it was) had told Dean that this wasn’t true. Couldn’t be true.

The demon laughed and there were more spectators there, the bar was slowly falling in silence.

“You know it is true, don’t you, Sam?” she said, _grinning_ , and Dean wished to run the knife through her body himself. “You’re a bloodthirsty monster, you’re just still too sane to kill a human. But don’t worry, Sam. The time when you don’t bother to distinguish the differences between your preys will come sooner or later. Maybe later in your case,” she glanced at Dean. “If not for him, you’d have been eating humans by now.”

“Say it again and I’ll kill you myself,” Dean snarled, and the demon smirked.

“Overprotective as ever,” she snorted and looked back at Sam, who didn’t look so confident now.

“What will you do, Sam? Kill me and sate your hunger for killing or let me go and finish me off later when there’s no one watching?”

Sam squeezed the hilt of the knife. “Out,” he barked.

The demon smiled and walked from behind the bar. She threw one amused smile in Dean’s direction and the hunter ended up flying across the room, falling hard in a crowd of terrified people who started panicking and trying to get out from the bar through one narrow door.

“Dean!” Sam’s voice got to Dean through the panicked screams and curses. He got up from the floor, his head spinning and his vision fuzzy, but he could still see a blur that was his brother moving with incredible swiftness, cornering the demon between a wall and himself. The vision slowly got sharper, but not quickly enough for Dean to register the moment when Sam lunged at the demon and knocked her down on the floor. How much strength there had to be within him to be able to do that? No human being could overpower a demon. Not even one raging and wanting revenge for whatever it was. 

The hand with the knife dived and an ear-splitting scream echoed.

“Does it hurt?” Dean heard Sam’s voice, sounding strange and inhuman. “I hope it does.” Another quick move, another scream of the demon.

Dean’s vision was finally as sharp as before, and he was watching the scene in front of his eyes, horrified. Sam was straddling the demon with an expression of utmost pleasure, cold, hard… and satisfied. There were two long cuts on the demon’s face, running down to her throat. Her breathing was labored, her eyes black, but there was still that malicious smile on her lips.

“Come on, Sam. Finish me off. That’s what you want.”

“Not so fast,” Sam said, and it was obvious that he was _enjoying_ this.

“What? You want a bite? Go ahead,” she said and laughed. It was the laughter of the devil.

Sam hesitated and she used the moment to shove him away. He was immediately on his feet, but the demon was in his personal space, grinning widely, blood dripping on her shoulders. She was too weak to fight back, but too vicious to taunt Sam.

“Feed,” she cooed.

Sam’s eyes darkened, old hunger reflecting in them. Dean knew very well what that meant. The bitch wanted to use Sam’s weakness against him to defeat him even if it meant her death.

“No, Sam!” he yelled.

Sam raised his head and looked at Dean. Another mistake in the already messed-up scenario. The demon dug her fingers into Sam’s chest. Hot blood gushed from the new wound. He howled and in one quick, smooth move he slit the demon’s throat. Panting, he straightened up and looked at Dean. The cold cruelty was still distinguishable, but it was slowly fading away.

Dean was staring at his brother for a while.

“Are you… okay?” Sam asked as if it wasn’t even him who was bleeding there. The question brought Dean back to reality.

“Let’s get lost,” he said, hurrying out from the empty bar, knowing that Sam was right at his heels.

They got in the car and Dean drove out from the town as fast as he could. He was avoiding looking at Sam. They were silent, didn’t even turn the radio on. The miles were passing under the wheels of the car and none of them made any attempt to start the conversation. Sam was tense beside Dean, staring out through the windshield, totally different than the Sam with whom Dean used to ride the Impala just a few years ago. That Sam was gentle, innocent and a crybaby. This Sam was hard, cruel… and broken inside. The Sam from before would have wanted to talk about the things that had just happened. Dean would have told him to shut up, they would have argued and Sam would have been sulking until they would have hit some motel for the night. This one was wiping the demon’s blood from his hands in deep silence, his forehead creased and his body rigid.

Dean missed the old Sam sorely – the pain in the ass of a little brother whose instant tries to talk about every little problem was driving Dean crazy. He missed his laugh, his pout, his constant need to voice his feelings. What he had now was a shadow of what Sam used to be once. The smile never reached the eyes, the anger was always deeper and harder to fade than it should be and swinging a fist was much easier than any time before. They both had their issues, but since the most of all Dean wanted his brother back, he had no idea whether Sam felt the same about Dean. And that was what was tearing them apart even though they were together. Together but still separate. When did it come to this? Was it after Sam returned from Hell, soulless? Or was it after Dean returned from the Pit? Or did it happen even sooner after he found out about Dean’s deal with the crossroads demon?   

Dean sighed inwardly and glanced at Sam.

“Would you mind go camping tonight? Yellowstone’s just an hour of ride away.”

Sam winced as if he got startled by the sudden voice next to him and looked at Dean, his expression confused and hurt… but it was just a moment. Sam got his composure back. “No… no, I wouldn’t,” he said quietly and that was the end of the conversation.

Dean glanced at him. Sam reminded him of a cold marble statue and the longer he could see that expressionless face, the stronger was the need to be away from him.

“You’ll be okay there,” he said, more trying to convince himself than really talking to his brother. Sam didn’t reply. It was as if he hadn’t even heard Dean speak.

The hour of the ride passed in complete silence again. Dean wanted to ask Sam what he was thinking about several times, but he always changed his mind in the end.

He stopped at the front gate of the park.

“I’ll pick you up in the morning. If you don’t find me here waiting for you, don’t go anywhere, okay? Just stay here and wait.”

“Yeah. Okay,” Sam said before he got out from the car, taking his things. He hesitated for a moment. “You… won’t give me the silver chain, will you?”

Blood boiled within Dean, but he didn’t show it. “You’re right, I won’t,” he said and started the car again. “See you tomorrow,” he said as he pulled away from the gate. He glanced into the rearview mirror, seeing the bulk of his brother standing there, motionless and watching Dean leaving. Dean’s heart dropped at the sight. Was it right leaving Sam there alone?

As long as Dean could see his brother in the mirror, Sam was still standing there and looking after him, reminding Dean of a lost puppy.

“Good night, Sam,” he whispered, focusing on the road in front of him. It was time to get into a town and crash at a cheap motel.

*

When the car disappeared behind the road curve, Sam sighed and turned to the gate. He walked in slowly, making a huge circle around the ranger’s cottage and heading into the woods. Probably Dean expected him to stop there and ask for a tent or something, but Sam didn’t want to see anyone right now. He was afraid he could snap their neck even now, when the rush of adrenaline had ceased and he was finally able to think clearly. Still, he couldn’t get rid of the feeling of the perverted joy and the satisfaction of killing the demon and that scared him. It hadn’t been the instinct of a hunter to kill evil; it had been pure bloodlust and possessiveness that made him jump the bitch.

Dean was mad. That one thing was as clear as the sky during a hot summer day and for a moment Sam had thought that he would pull out the silver chain and order Sam to put it on. Dean did something worse instead.

After they left the bar, Sam was afraid to talk to him. Not because Dean would surely have exploded, but because he wasn’t sure what he would have done in that case. He could still feel the hunger for blood – demon blood if you asked him – but he wasn’t sure how he would have coped with Dean yelling and giving him a headache.

Dean was right. They needed to be separated for a while. Yet, it didn’t mean it wasn’t hard to be on his own when he was still scared shitless of himself.

The moment they had stepped into that goddamned bar he knew something was wrong. The faint smell of sulfur was mixing with the heavy human odor and for a while Sam couldn’t find out from where the stench of the hell was coming. Dean didn’t even notice when Sam returned into the car to get Ruby’s knife. When Sam got back, the jerk was already flirting with some tramp. Sam knew very well that the reason why he went there wasn’t to warn Dean about the demon’s presence. Hell, it felt so good to spoil his brother’s little moment of fun!

As expected, Dean fumed, but it didn’t matter because Sam already knew who the bad guy he had been looking for was. He didn’t think anymore, he wanted to get her, to kill her, and if it wasn’t because of the fact she was a demon, then it was because she _dared_ talking to the idiot of his brother, who didn’t even notice the malevolent smile on her lips as she poured him the whiskey. The bloodlust fogged his mind completely and the only thing that mattered in that horrible moment of carnage was his desire to kill. What scared Sam the most was the realization that if Dean had mixed into the fight, most likely he wouldn’t have gotten out of it alive.

Sam squeezed the strap of his duffel in his hand as he was walking into the depth of the dark woods. The deeper he was the more intense was the feeling of being watched. The unpleasant stench the slight breeze brought to him was kind of familiar, but Sam couldn’t recall when he could smell it for the last time. There was something ominous in the air and Sam stopped to listen to the sounds of the night. Everything was perfectly silent and that scared him even more. No place could be as silent as this forest.

Sam dug a sawed-off from the duffel and walked farther, sniffing the air and listening intently to the deep silence. The forest itself seemed to be afraid of the thing hiding there under its protection. Sam found a thick, old tree and dropped the duffel at the foot of its trunk. He sat down himself, pressing his back to the hard wood and putting the sawed-off across his legs. His eyes were wide open despite the darkness. Chill was crawling up his spine and his fingers were touching the cold steel of the gun. Something was terribly wrong and he was here, tired and alone.

*

Dean rolled on his back and stared at the ceiling in a small motel room. He couldn’t sleep. The memory of the events in the bar was coming back to him: Sam’s obvious joy of killing the demon, the hunger for blood, the cold satisfaction when Dean got him into the car and drove away. The silent plea when he left him at the gate of the park…

What was Sam doing now? Was he sleeping? Was he roaming the woods in his wolf form and howling at the moon? Was he scared? Was he pissed at Dean for leaving him there alone? Or was he enjoying his momentary freedom?

He must have dozed off because when long distant howl woke him up, his body was stiff and cold, curled up on the sheets. The howl sounded again, this time closer, and Dean reached under the pillow for his gun and released the safety-catch. He got up from the bed and came up to the window, listening intently to the sounds coming from outside. He peered out and thought that he glimpsed a silver wolf’s body on the parking lot and subsequently he could hear the sound of claws scratching on the door of his room. Dean froze and waited with the gun ready to shoot.

The scratching stopped.

“Dean.” 

Dean recognized the voice. With the gun still prepared, he reached for the doorknob and opened the door.

“Sam…”

His brother was standing there, more naked than clothed in the shreds of his clothes that apparently didn’t survive the transformation. He was panting as if he ran miles without any brake (and obviously he even did) and was giving Dean his most dangerous puppy dog look without even realizing it.

Dean moved away from the door, hiding the gun from Sam’s sight, but Sam didn’t enter the room.

“Come in, Sam,” Dean said, and only then Sam stopped hesitating and stepped in, his eyes trained on Dean in a taut expectation of something.

“What’s up, Sammy?” Dean asked, trying to keep his voice low and soothing. Something about Sam was telling him that anything else would have been a big mistake.

“Are you gonna punish me?” Sam asked, the question sounding pitifully childish and Dean contemplated turning the lights on in order to have a good look at Sam to make sure he wasn’t playing any stupid games with his older brother. Sam might have been a hulk, but right now he looked like the five-year-old who had been told off for not having packed in time, and one very impatient Dad was waiting outside the room and one very upset Dean was collecting his little brother’s small plastic soldiers scattered all over the room while Sam was trying to force his hoodie into a rucksack already full of children books he didn’t want to leave behind.

“Punish for what?” Dean asked, the idea about the lights long forgotten, and the confusion in his voice must have been too obvious even for Sam.

“For not listening to you. For coming here,” Sam replied, hunching his shoulders in an attempt to look smaller than he was. It didn’t help him much; he was taller than Dean anyway.

Dean didn’t know what to say to that. He sighed and sized his brother up. It seemed Sam had shifted in a hurry and Dean wondered what could possibly have happened.

“No, I’m not going to punish you,” he said and turned his back to Sam. Looking at his naked brother (well, shreds couldn’t count as clothes, could they?) was quite unsettling. He went for his duffel, rummaged through it for a while and pulled out a new pair of boxers and a clean T-shirt. “Get dressed,” he said and threw the things to Sam.

Sam caught them effortlessly in the air, giving Dean an uncomprehending look but not saying anything, and he started removing the shreds from his body.

Dean whined quietly. “Not here. Bathroom,” he said, and Sam gave him a quick nod, disappearing in the small room hurriedly. He obviously thought Dean was pissed and didn’t want to provoke him anymore. That was wise.

Dean sank in a chair heavily and waited for his brother to come out. Sam came back into the room in a few minutes, the timid expression still not leaving his face. He reminded Dean more of a dog afraid of his master’s punishment for some mischief he did than of the predator from a few hours ago.

“Go to sleep, Sam,” he said tiredly, contemplating having a shot of whiskey.

Sam glanced at the single bed. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

Sam tilted his head to the side as though he was thinking about something. Then he came up to Dean’s chair and descended on his knees, hugging Dean around his waist.

_Fuck!_

“I’m sorry for making you upset,” Sam whispered, and Dean didn’t have the heart to push him away.

“You should go to sleep, Sammy.”

“You too,” Sam said and hauled Dean up on his feet. Holding his hand firmly, he pulled him the few steps to the bed and pushed him down. “You’re tired,” he said as he followed Dean on the bed, pushing him into lying position. Dean didn’t have strength to fight back against Sam’s determination, especially when Sam was right. “I won’t hurt you. I swear I won’t,” Sam assured him and cuddled ( _godfuck!_ ) to his brother, putting his head on Dean’s chest.

Dean was ten again, trying to encourage his six-year-old brother who had just started going to school, and after a couple of months during which he made friends he had to leave them. That night Dean sneaked into his little brother’s bed and Sam cuddled up to him just like this, listening to Dean’s promises to not leave Sam ever, to stay with him no matter where they went.

_“No matter where Dad takes us, we’ll be always together, Sammy, okay? We’re a team, you and me. We’ll always have each other’s back.”_

He hadn’t left Sam’s bed until his brother fell asleep. Dad was on a hunt, left them alone again, and maybe it was a good thing this time because Dean didn’t want to see Sam screaming that he wanted to go back and Dad yelling at him to stop being a selfish brat and grow up. Dad was pretty patient with his sons, but Sam could be a little stubborn bitch, too, not willing to give in to the older man.

Dean put an arm around Sam’s shoulders and stared at the ceiling. He hoped Sam wouldn’t remember anything in the morning. Such chick flick moments belonged into the darkness of the night and they were supposed to stay there, hidden and forgotten.

Sam took a deep breath. “I wanted to come back home,” he whispered, his hand caressing lightly Dean’s ribs through the thin fabric of his T-shirt.

Dean tensed. The talk again. “What are you talking about?”

“I wanted to be with you,” Sam said in such a quiet voice that Dean almost missed the words. His hand tightened the grip on Sam’s shoulder and he pressed his bother closer unconsciously. The sudden sting in his eyes became too uncomfortable.

“Sleep, Sam,” he rasped.

Sam lifted his head and sniffed at Dean’s carotid artery. “I love you, Dean,” he whispered and settled more comfortably against Dean’s rigid body.

Dean couldn’t hold the tears rolling down from the corners of his eyes. He wiped them away with the back of his free hand, hating himself for his weakness. _You love me now, but you’ll give a fuck in the morning._

Sam’s hand caressed his chest gently before his fingers clenched Dean’s T-shirt.

“There’s something in the forest,” he whispered and exhaled slowly.

Dean blinked. “What?”

Sam didn’t reply. The clench of his fingers loosened a little and his breathing became more regular. Could he fall asleep so fast?

“Sammy?” he addressed him in a low voice, but Sam stayed silent. Dean sighed and closed his eyes. He should get some sleep, too.


	3. Heaven, Hell, Purgatory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this chapter some time after the episode about Bobby's death was on air and I still didn't know whether he was coming back to the show in some way or not. Castiel was also believed to be dead and the Winchester bros had only each other and were still clueless how to get the world rid of the Leviathans. That was why I came up with my own idea in this story. Anything, that could remind you of the seventh season is just a pure accident. Anything, that could remind you of any other season is my incapability to think of something new XD

In the morning, Dean wanted to leave the bed unnoticed while Sam was still sleeping. Obviously, escaping from the embrace of a werewolf whose senses were overly keen was not an easy task. Dean barely sat up and Sam was awake, jumping out from the bed with that scared and confused expression of his. Eyes wide, his mouth agape, staring at Dean like he was the big bad wolf and Sam Little Red Riding Hood, who had found out she was about to be swallowed just like her grandmother.

“What…?” Sam managed to say, trying to keep as much distance from Dean as the room enabled him, but then his eyes dropped to the T-shirt and the boxers he was wearing, jumping farther away from his brother (which Dean didn’t even think was possible), but finding out that he could hardly escape the clothes he was actually wearing.

“How…?”

“Calm down, Sam. Just calm down,” Dean said in the commanding tone of an older brother while Sam was still gaping, still having that dumbstruck expression on his face.

“Why am I here? What did I do?” Sam blurted, stepping away from Dean trying to approach him.

“You came here last night to warn me,” Dean said, making another careful step towards Sam. “You told me there was something in the woods.”

That seemed to work because Sam didn’t back away.

“There is,” he said, breathing quickly and looking at the floor as though he was trying to remember something. “The whole place smelled of its presence.”

“Let’s talk about it, okay?” Dean said, shortening the distance between them again. To be honest, Dean didn’t care about the thing in the national park as much as he cared about reaching his brother in some level. Sam reminded him of a cornered animal. Dean had to soothe him, to make him calm down and talk to his big brother again.

Sam breathed out, his back still pressed to the wall, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“The deeper I went into the forest, the stronger was the stench. It was kind of… familiar, but I can’t recall from where I knew it,” he said.

Okay, the distraction plan worked. Dean managed to get close enough to reach out and curl his hand around Sam’s wrist. Sam flinched as though he had been burned by silver and tried to wrench his hand out of Dean’s grip, but Dean wasn’t a weak girl and despite the werewolf strength, he was able to hold Sam firmly.

“Sam! Cut it out!” It was a command.

Sam stopped struggling, but he was still tense and ready to run away. He cast a quick look at the crumpled sheets on the bed. “What happened?” he asked, his voice small and strangled.

“What do you think happened?” Dean’s tone was hard and authoritative.

Sam gave his brother a desperate look. “I don’t know. I… I didn’t hurt you, right? I didn’t try to force you into anything, did I?”

It was Dean’s turn to look confused. “Force me? Like… into what?”

Sam shrugged, still throwing those scared looks at Dean. “The bed,” he said after a while. “Your clothes. You… I was holding you…” his voice trailed off. “What happened? What did I do?”

Dean didn’t want to show how much it hurt hearing those questions. He kind of missed the Sam from the night, open and in need for his big brother. This one was freaking out by the sole idea of needing him so much.

Dean decided for sarcasm. It always served him perfect when he wanted to hide his true feelings.

“Yeah, you were holding me like a friggin’ teddy bear,” he said. “As for the clothes, do you think it’s comfortable for me to see your naked ass? Check the bathroom, by the way.” Sam’s eyes went wider. “And the bed: you were tired, I was tired, and so we shared.”

Dean let go of Sam’s wrist, letting his brother do what he wanted to do so desperately the whole time Dean was holding him: he lengthened the distance between them immediately. How different it was from the night! The ‘night Sam’ wanted to be close, this ‘day Sam’ needed to keep his distance. It hurt the more since Dean knew that the day Sam was the true one, the little brother Dean had been taking care of his whole life. The night one was just a shadow of the long forgotten desires… nothing real anymore.

“Take a shower. You smell like a wet dog,” he said, annoyance in his voice. Sam gave him a look that was neither scared nor suspicious or guilty but rather thoughtful, and then he walked into the bathroom, still keeping the safe distance from his older brother, only to come out in a second with an unhappy look, holding the shreds of his poor jeans in his hand, showing them to Dean.

“Those were my last ones.”

“Seems we’ll need to go shopping,” Dean said indifferently and dug a spare pair of jeans from his duffel bag, handing it to Sam. Sam took the jeans only hesitantly and Dean felt the urge to slap him across the face, but then there was a quiet “thank you” and the bitch disappeared behind the bathroom door. Hmf, his only luck.

*

Sam didn’t feel a bit comfortable in Dean’s clothes, and it was not because of the jeans being too short for his long legs or that the shirt he was wearing wasn’t exactly his style and Dean’s spare shoes were too tight, but because he felt like a tiny girlfriend after a romantic date and a passionate night. And really, feeling the fabric of _Dean’s_ boxers on his skin was making the things even worse. No, he didn’t feel like a girlfriend – Sam had to correct himself. To be precise, he felt like a gay boyfriend _._ Rather not to tell Dean…

“Come on, Sam, we’re leaving,” Dean’s voice interrupted the flow of Sam’s gloomy thoughts.

“Where to?”

Dean raised an eyebrow, giving his brother a look like Sam was retarded.

“To the park. To gather your things and work the case.”

Sam didn’t say more than a stupid “aha”, which Dean didn’t even register, and left the room after his brother.

The ride to the national park was filled with heavy silence. Sam didn’t remember a thing from the night, the only thing he could dug out from his memory was the terror he felt deep in the forest, the stench of kill and death, but he still couldn’t recall from where he knew it. He must have smelled it some time before he became… this. He could see how Dean was glancing at him stealthily when he thought Sam wasn’t looking, an unreadable expression in his face. Sam was trying to ignore it.

His brother was worried, that much was obvious. They still weren’t close to any idea how to help Sam, the only thing they could be sure about was his joy of killing. Yes, he had enjoyed killing the freaking demon. It sated his hunger for blood for a while.

Chill ran up his spine and he trembled. There was an innocent woman, probably still alive, in that body. Not that they usually had time to think about the people trapped in their own bodies when demons possessed them, but Sam always regretted the waste when Ruby’s knife sank into soft flesh. Not this time. The only thing he regretted was that he didn’t rip the bitch from Hell with his bare hands.

He shivered again and gulped heavily. “I don’t wanna go to Hell again,” he blurted, watching the gray road in front of them. He felt Dean’s eyes on him for a moment until his brother looked out at the road again.

“What are you trying to tell me?” Worry and suspicion in the undertone didn’t escape Sam’s attention, even though Dean was trying to hide it. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel – the unmistakable sign that Dean was upset.

Sam stayed quite, trying not to scream with horror when the memories of Hell started popping up in his mind. Despite the fact that his hallucinations about Lucifer stopped some time ago he could feel the presence of the Prince of Hell more intensely. Hell was within him, he carried it with him no matter where he went. There was nowhere to hide from it. Sam wondered whether Dean felt the same after Castiel dragged him out from the Pit.

“Sam, you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said out of habit.

“Right. You mentioned Hell just for fun,” Dean said wryly. “What’s going on?”

Sam slid lower in the seat in an unconscious attempt to look smaller than he was. His shoulders hunched, his look cast down to the floor.

“I’m afraid, Dean,” he said quietly.

There was silence for a while until Dean finally spoke. “… of what?” His tone was almost gentle.

“Of myself,” Sam said in a small voice. “I mean… look at me. What I’ve become…”

“Sam,” Dean addressed him strictly and apparently wanted to say more, but Sam was faster.

“I’m not a good guy anymore. I enjoy killing. It feels like the best thing in the world,” he acknowledged. “I’m hungry for blood. What I did to the demon – I liked it and if you had let me, I know she would have become my supper…”

“She wouldn’t have.” There was a strong conviction in Dean’s voice.

“Dean…” The incredulity hurt more than it should. “Let’s just… admit…”

“Shut up, Sam,” Dean said sharply. “You think I have no clue what you are? I know your new instincts push you into killing, I’m not stupid. But I also know what you don’t and that’s that you don’t wanna kill despite the nature of the… thing you’ve become. So no, she wouldn’t have become your supper.”

“I wanted to kill her…”

“She was a demon. If you hadn’t killed her, I would have done it.”

“Why don’t you want to understand?”

Dean’s hard look finally silenced Sam.

“Now listen to me,” Dean said, the authoritative tone of a big brother slipping into his voice. “I know what you are and what you are capable of. But I also know _who_ you are and… every dog can be trained,” he said, a trace of tease in his voice.

Sam couldn’t help rolling his eyes. “Jerk,” he growled, but in fact he was grateful for the insult. It meant Dean still had hope.

“Bitch,” Dean replied instantly, smirking at his brother in the passenger seat. 

“I’m a werewolf, not a weredog.” Sam was trying to get back some dignity with the statement.

Dean shrugged, grinning. “Both canine.”

*

It was late afternoon when they stepped into the forest finally. The unpleasant feeling of being watched returned and Sam felt an urge to climb up the trees to hide from whatever was hidden in the shadows under the lowest branches. Dean was following his brother’s infallible steps towards the place where Sam spent the night. It wasn’t hard to identify it once they spotted the shreds of clothes all around, the sawed-off lying by a thick tree trunk with the duffel nearby.

Dean looked around. “Wow. At least your shoes survived,” he said as he picked up one of Sam’s boots.

Sam glared, taking the shoe from Dean and finding the other one just a few steps away. He changed the shoes immediately. It was much more comfortable walking around in his own large boots than in Dean’s smaller ones. At least something was right…

Dean picked up a piece of the torn shirt and glanced at Sam as if he was estimating his strength and capabilities.

“Well…” he started after a while of tense silence. “Is the critter close? The one you said was here?”

Sam sniffed the air and looked around. The stench of damp soil, mold and death was everywhere around. He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? Can you smell it?” Dean was too impatient to Sam’s displeasure. Dammit, he wasn’t some hound!

“I can. I can smell it everywhere,” he snapped, frowning.

Dean shrugged and made an indifferent face, apparently trying not to piss Sam off more than he already was. “All right. No need to be grumpy.”

Sam clenched his fists and glared. “Yeah, right. I woke up in a completely different place than I should have, I wear my brother’s clothes because the pieces of mine are no bigger than my palm, I’m in a freaking national park with some freaking critter hiding in there, I’m scared to death to even think about what it can be, and on top of that I’m a goddamned werewolf! So yeah, I _am_ a bit grumpy.” He took a deep breath.

Dean was silent the whole time and only when Sam finished, he nodded. “Better?” he asked in a calm, almost soothing voice.

The tension from Sam’s shoulders ceased a little. “Yeah.”

“Good. Because I want you to calm down and concentrate.”

“Dean!” Sam barked, furious again. “I’m not a dog!”

“Dammit, Sam! Stop whining like one and finally pull yourself together!” Dean yelled and invaded Sam’s personal space. Sam’s eyes widened in surprise and his body got rigid. “You’re a werewolf and you’re scared, I get it, I really do. Hell, Sam, I was a vampire! But instead of constant complaining and pitying myself I used what was offered to me, found the nest and killed the friggin’ critters! That was what everyone expected me to do. Why the hell don’t you do the same? Why do you always capture yourself in self-pity? Crap! You have much keener senses than I do now, so dammit, take a deep breath and use ‘em!” The look of the mad green eyes pierced Sam right through, and he inhaled the damp air and shivered. He could distinguish something new, some smell he didn’t notice before.

“That way,” he said and motioned the direction from where the stench was coming and was glad that he had a reason to step away from his pissed-off brother. He gathered his duffel and sawed-off and walked slowly deeper into the forest with the gun ready in his hand. _You never know when you need it…_

Dean was right at his heels, looking around and listening intently, but he could hardly hear something if Sam couldn’t. There wasn’t even the usual sound of the wind blowing in the tree tops or the creaking of wood. There was dead silence…

“Can you hear that?” Sam asked as he stopped and sniffed the air again.

“Hear what? I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly. No sound. Just silence.”

“Yeah… Pretty strange, isn’t it?”

Sam nodded and followed the smell again. It was getting stronger and heavier… the smell of a rotting body. Sam stopped and looked up, his stomach giving him an unpleasant squeeze. The stench was disgusting. Good thing he didn’t eat anything for breakfast. He still felt like throwing up.

“I guess you didn’t stop at the ranger’s office last night, did you?” Dean asked, staring at the pieces of the dead body hanging from the branches. “I vote for a wendigo.”

Sam just nodded silently. He walked a few steps away and with his back to the tree he took several deep breaths, trying to ignore the stench of the rotting flesh.

“Can you smell the critter?” Dean asked, curious.

“The scent is old, but I can follow it.” Sam clenched the sawed-off tighter in his hand.

Dean smiled. “See what a good hound you can be?”

Sam glared, but didn’t reply. Something about the thought was unsettling.

He walked among the trees warily, sniffing and listening to any sound he could catch, looking around like a beast of prey on its hunt. Dean was right at his heels, cautious and trying to be as silent as possible, but dammit... he was a human and even his breathing was too loud in the deep silence of the forest.

The unpleasant feeling of being watched faded and Sam really didn’t know whether he should be glad or not. Something was there, knowing about their presence, maybe waiting for the night to get them and send them where they belonged to – Dean to Heaven and Sam to… _Where? Will Lucifer let me go to Purgatory? Or am I his special win, no matter in what shape?_

Sam shuddered and stopped.

“What’s up?” Dean’s voice cut the flow of his thoughts. He shook his head and rearranged the duffel on his shoulder.

“It’s nothing,” he said and got to motion again. He could feel Dean’s scrutinizing look on the nape of his neck, but he ignored that and just walked farther.

Their progress was slow. Sometimes Sam lost the scent and they had to return, and sometimes he needed a short pause to rest. He got a strong headache by the time he finally caught the unmistakable scent of a wendigo.

“We found him,” he said finally to Dean when the light in the forest started fading.

“Great.” Dean’s voice sounded wry and absolutely not delighted. “Let’s gank it before it gets really dark.”

Sam wanted to reply, but then he smelled it: the wendigo was coming, too fast and too hungry.

“Watch out!” he shouted and fired in an attempt to slow down the thing. It didn’t work; he made the critter only angrier. He aimed again. Dean was standing just a few steps away, firing too, but the beast was still coming at them. They needed a plan. Right now.

Sam felt the rush of adrenaline in his veins, his blood was bubbling, reacting to the sun disappearing behind the thick trees.

“Damn!” Sam heard Dean curse. “Run, Sam!” He was backing towards his brother, still firing. Sam’s knees felt like jelly and he wasn’t able to make a step.

“Run!” Dean yelled at him again and fired a few more shots, but the wendigo was too close already and knocked the shotgun from Dean’s hands. In one terrible moment it reached out for Sam’s brother.

“NO!” Sam cried, and the world went fuzzy. Despite his effort, he ended up on his knees and hands, gasping and trembling…

The nausea was gone in a few seconds.

He raised his head and looked at the wendigo. It already had Dean in its grasp. Sam growled darkly. He wanted to kill the critter, to tear it into pieces. There was nothing that could stop him anymore.

*

Dean could already see a paved road to Perdition when the wendigo grabbed him. He hoped that he would be enough of a distraction to the beast at least so that Sam had enough time to run. But the idiot of his brother was standing there like petrified, his eyes wide and the mouth agape, just staring, looking pale and scared and angry…

_Wait! Angry?_

Maybe he was just imagining it. The world in front of his eyes blurred as the creature choked his windpipe before it was going to rip him into pieces. But then the wendigo screamed – a high-pitched, painful, inhuman scream – and hot blood sprinkled Dean’s face as something huge and silvery bit through the wendigo’s carotid artery. The grip on Dean’s throat loosened and he took a deep breath. The wendigo shrieked again and let go of him completely.

Dean fell down on his back, gasping for air. His eyes slowly focused and he could see a cruel fight between the wendigo and the pissed werewolf. A werewolf could be pretty dangerous when it was mad. At least this one was.

Watching the bloody scene, it was really difficult for Dean to think about the werewolf as his brother. The beast was cruel, tearing pieces of flesh from his opponent’s body whenever he had a chance to take a bite, careful about the wendigo’s claws, dodging them swiftly like a football player running across a pitch with a ball. He looked kind of ridiculous still dressed in Dean’s shirt and T-shirt and jeans and underwear – all of them already torn after the transformation, but now being ripped much more as the wendigo was trying to hurt the werewolf. On one hand, it was a good thing that the clothes were protecting Sam’s body, on the other, the fluttering fabric enabled the critter to pull the werewolf closer to give him a clawed slap across his face. However, the werewolf paid back for every single scratch.

Dean remembered he was too close to the battlefield when a piece of flesh landed on his respectful torso. He flinched, brushing it away quickly and crawling from the two fighting creatures as fast as he could.

The werewolf was unstoppable. Even though he got wounds of his own (so he wasn’t so swift in the end or the wendigo was already too desperate and too high on adrenaline that even the fatal wounds it got couldn’t slow it down), he fought ferociously, never stopping, never backing off, not even when the wendigo (which was now just a shapeless fighting pile of flesh than anything else) threw him against a tree in the last attempt to get rid of its bane and Dean could hear a loud crack of breaking bones.

“Sam!”

The werewolf jumped up to his feet as if nothing happened, didn’t even whine with pain, just snarled a warning. His fighting position and the bristled fur were talking about his readiness to carry on with the fight. His mouth was red with the wendigo’s blood, his face sprayed with the red droplets. There were huge bloodstains on his silver body and Dean didn’t try to guess whether it was the wendigo’s blood or the werewolf’s.

Dean fumbled for his lighter in the pocket of his jacket. They needed fire. While the wendigo was occupied by Sam and his attempts to take it down, Dean found a long wooden stick. He could turn it into a torch if he was lucky. He didn’t hesitate and set to work while his brother launched a new attack with blood spurting and pieces of flesh flying in every direction. This was a true carnage…

He collected a few stripes of fabric that had been his T-shirt before, but didn’t make it through Sam’s transformation and wendigo’s claws, and soaked it with the combustible he and Sam used for salt-and-burns. Then he wound the fabric on one end of the stick and set it aflame. He approached the fighting couple.

“Sam!” he called, and the werewolf shied away from the fire immediately. The wendigo turned to Dean, its mad eyes boring into him.

Dean smirked, stepping closer. Both beasts were watching him intently. The wendigo’s belly was completely torn and Dean could glimpse intestines. He would have thrown up if he was of a more delicate nature. The only thing that made him really sick was the thought that this was Sam’s work.

He pushed the thought back and charged towards the critter. It kind of surprised him when, instead of freezing on the spot surprised, the wendigo reacted with raising its clawed hand in order to rip him up. It was too late to retreat.

The wendigo screamed suddenly and its hand never met Dean’s throat as he had expected. The heavy werewolf was digging his fangs into its flesh, just holding it long enough for Dean to stick the burning torch into the critter’s belly.

The body finally ablaze, Sam jumped away from it, cruel eyes watching the thing turning into ash. Dean was watching, too. They both were panting, the excitement of the hunt slowly washing away.

Their eyes met. The cruelty from the werewolf’s look was fading, being replaced by warmth and concern.

“Sammy,” Dean addressed him softly, and the werewolf tilted his head. “Come here, Sammy. I’ll free you from those shreds,” he said and crouched, knowing how foolish it was, but this was Sam, who had just helped him to gank a wendigo. Despite Sam’s animal form it still felt like old times. “Come ‘ere, bro.”

The werewolf lowered his head and walked slowly to Dean. Dean smiled and waited for Sam to come close enough for him to reach out and touch the furry body.

“Good boy,” he said gently. “Now we’ll take these off.”

He reached for what stayed of the shirt, T-shirt and boxers and helped Sam out of it. The jeans must have slipped from the wolf’s body sometimes during the fight. Dean smiled and ran his hand through the silvery fur. The werewolf was standing there, letting Dean touch him. He whined quietly when Dean’s examining hands touched his broken ribs and bleeding wounds. He shivered, but he didn’t step away. As if Dean’s touch was bringing him relief…

He stepped closer and in one unguarded moment his nose touched Dean’s cheek, leaving a bloody smudge there. Then he pulled away, his big hazel eyes fixed on the man. Dean was staring back and he was sure that under all the layers of animalistic cruelty, anger, and guilt, he could see his innocent little brother again. Something he was craving for so long…

A tear rolled down Dean’s cheek. He wiped it away.

“Sorry I didn’t protect you better. It was my job and I failed. Again. I’m sorry, Sammy.”

The wolf stretched his neck to touch Dean’s cheek one more time and licked the wet trail of the tear off. He nudged lightly Dean’s chest with his big paw and Dean ended up sitting on the ground. The werewolf moved to his side and sat down, his shoulder pressed against Dean’s. Then he gave a long sigh, lying down and putting his head on Dean’s thigh. He huffed and closed his eyes.

Dean smiled again and buried his fingers into the fur sticky with drying blood of the wendigo. Sam purred like a kitten. The sound made Dean chuckle.

“What are you? Five?”

Sam cracked one eye open, glancing at Dean, and wagged his short tail lazily. Dean stroked him lightly.

“You’re right. We both need to rest,” he whispered, still caressing the werewolf. It felt nice and comfortable and for that one short moment Dean allowed himself to bathe in the feeling of relief and the elusive happiness of being close to his brother again.

“I love you, Sammy,” he whispered so silently that even he could hardly hear his own voice, but Sam lifted his head anyway, looking right into Dean’s eyes. He heard it, Dean knew. He raised his hand and ran his fingers through the soft fur behind the werewolf’s pointed ear. Sam leaned into the touch, whining quietly.

Dean couldn’t help himself. He wound his arms around Sam and hugged him. The werewolf let him without any complaint and after Dean released him finally, he licked his ear and put his head back on Dean’s thigh, ready to sleep like that. Dean was caressing him, wordless, trying not to think about the morning when Sam would be himself again and wouldn’t remember anything of this. And that hurt like hell…

He reached for his duffel and put it under his head as he lay down. Sam pressed his wolf body against him again, putting his head on Dean’s chest. Dean buried his fingers into the soft fur, caressing and enjoying the warmth seeping from the werewolf. He was foolish, he knew that, and every hunter in the world would have told him that he served himself on a golden plate to the hungry monster. Yet, he felt safe in Sam’s fluffy presence even with his blood-stained muzzle resting on Dean’s chest in which the man’s heart was pumping life-giving red liquid into the veins.

The werewolf was calm and his eyes were shut, but his ears were moving constantly as they were listening to the sounds of the dead silent forest. How come the forest was still so quiet even though the menace was gone?

Sam suddenly lifted his head high and listened intently.

“What’s up?” Dean asked, whispering, and sat up.

Sam jumped to his feet and growled menacingly.

“Sam?”

Dean stood up slowly, looking the way Sam was staring into the darkness, but he couldn’t see anything. He reached for his shotgun slowly. Sam meanwhile plastered the ears to his head and bared his teeth, the fur on his back sticking out in dark, blood-covered spikes. He was half-growling and half-barking a warning for anyone who was hiding there.

Something rustled, too close but still invisible, and a deep bodiless growl echoed. Dean recognized it at once. How many times had he heard it in his dreams? How many times had he heard it for real? Obviously, Sam recognized it, too. He stepped back and his growls sounded much less confident. Then he made a step forward as if he wanted to protect Dean, but he backed again, more whining than growling, and Dean realized that Sam was scared shitless and it was only Dean’s presence that prevented him from running away.

Dean aimed the shotgun, but before he could fire, a malevolent bark echoed. Sam squeaked like a piglet and disappeared in the darkness, followed by a thumping sound of heavy paws.

“SAM!!!” Dean yelled after his brother. There was no chance he could run after him and his pursuer. “Dammit! Sam, come back!”

“Nice to see you again, Dean,” he heard behind his back, and he turned around to glare at the one whom belonged that cold, amused voice.

“Crowley,” he spat the name like as if it was something disgusting. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you two chuckleheads obviously.”

“Why?”

“I want to talk to you.”

“Sorry, I have no time for you. I need to find Sam because someone let his hellpup chase him like a rabbit.” Dean clenched the gun in his hand tightly.

“Oh, come on, Dean,” the demon said in a light tone and waved his hand. “Fluffy won’t hurt him. He just wanted to play for a while.”

Dean gave Crowley the look as though he doubted his sanity. “That thing’s called Fluffy?” As long as he remembered, hellhounds were anything but fluffy. Anything nasty of course. He glowered and aimed the shotgun at the demon. “Call it off or I’ll salt your ass.”

“You obviously forgot who you are talking to,” Crowley said coldly.

“I obviously didn’t,” Dean said. “Call it off…”

“Or what? Will you spray me with holly water? You know I’m not a common demon. I’ll snap my fingers and both your brother and you will be dead.”

Dean had to admit he had nothing. The shotgun wasn’t loaded with rock salt and neither his pistol. The holy water he carried in the inner pocket of his jacket would only enrage the demon and there was no Devil’s Trap to prevent Crowley from jumping Dean.

“What do you want?” he asked in the end.

Crowley nodded his head in appreciation. “I told you. I want to talk.”

“Call off your pet at first.”

Crowley rolled his eyes and whistled. “Come back, boy! Your master’s calling!” he shouted and looked at Dean. “So?”

Dean looked into the darkness. The sound of the heavy paws of the hellhound was slowly coming closer, the beast returned. Dean was looking for any sign of Sam, but his werewolf was nowhere to be seen or heard.

Crowley patted the overgrown hellhound. “Sam is all right,” he said matter-of-factly.

“How can you know that?”

Crowley smirked. “Because we need him.”

Dean frowned even more. “Need for what? And who is ‘we’?”

Crowley’s smug smile didn’t leave his lips. “Your brother can stop the Leviathans. He can bring them back to Purgatory. So… as for your second question, the ‘we’ means you, me, and the rest of the world.”

Dean stayed quite. Did Crowley really know something they didn’t? Could Sam stop the freaking monsters from Purgatory? Demons lied, especially demons like Crowley. But Dean could hear him out at least. That was what Crowley wanted, anyway, and in order to make Dean listen, he sent that friggin’ hellhound to “play” with his brother.

“Speak.”

Crowley’s smile widened. “I guess you already know that souls of the creatures you hunt go to Purgatory, right?”

Dean’s look hardened. “Yeah, I heard something about that,” he said. “So what?”

“So Sam can save the world one more time,” Crowley said and his words didn’t make much more sense than they did when he opened his filthy mouth for the first time.

“Save exactly how?” Dean asked, knowing already that whatever the demon was going to say, he was not going to like it.

“In order to defeat Leviathans and to send them back to where they belong to, the gate to Purgatory must be opened.”

“Yeah. And?”

“It must be opened from inside.”

Dean straightened up. So this was what Crowley needed Sam for…

“No,” he said determinedly. “I won’t let Sam die again. Find someone else.”

Crowley laughed humorlessly. “How many creatures of dark, foolish enough to be willing to give their lives for seven billion people on Earth, do you think are walking this world? Even if there were any, they’d be hardly able to do the job right. Your brother is the only one capable.”

“I said no. That’s my last word,” Dean said firmly.

“Don’t you think this is your brother’s choice?”

Sam’s choice, of course… Crowley was right. Sam was foolish enough to agree with this folly. His eyes narrowed and he looked daggers at Crowley. “No. There must be some other way.”

Crowley laughed again. “Do you really think I would come after you if there was any other way?”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re a demon. Demons lie.”

“Ha ha ha.” Crowley scowled. “Summon me when you change your mind after some Leviathan kicks your ass.” He disappeared in the dark forest without any other word. The hellhound growled his goodbye and its steps faded into the silence as well.

Dean trembled. No, he couldn’t let Sam do that stupid step one more time. Dean didn’t want to go through the living hell after he lost him ever again. No such repetition was tolerable. No. Sam was not going to die like this, he was not going to Purgatory, and they were going to find the freaking cure so that he didn’t go there ever. As for the Leviathans… they would find something else. 

He pushed those thoughts into the back of his mind and scanned the forest around.

“Sam!”

Still no sign of his brother. Dean sighed and sat down. He could only wait. 

*

Sam didn’t turn up the whole night. When the first rays of the morning sun broke through the thick branches of the trees, Dean gave in. He stood up, picking up Sam’s and his duffels, ready to go look for Sam.

“Dean.”

The voice was quiet and hoarse. Dean turned around immediately, seeing Sam peering from behind a tree.

“Sam,” he said with relief.

“I’m… um… naked,” Sam stated the obvious. That was apparently the reason why he didn’t come out from behind the tree.

“I can give you a T-shirt and underwear, but, dude, we’re out of pants. I can go check the ranger’s office. Maybe I’ll find something for you there.”

“Yeah… Thanks.”

“Sure thing.”

He put the duffels back on the ground so that Sam could find something to wear while Dean was gone.

“Dean, be careful,” Sam said suddenly. “There’s something more in this forest than just the wendigo…”

“It’s a hellhound,” Dean said, taking the shotgun and avoiding looking at Sam.

There was silence for a moment.

“I… was chased by it, wasn’t I?” sounded tentatively.

Dean gripped the shotgun so tight that his knuckles went white. “Yeah, you were.” He glanced at Sam still hiding his nudity behind the tree. “Do you remember?”

“It’s… like a dream. Just blurred images… But I remember I was scared and I ran away. After we ganked the wendigo…”

Dean winced and looked directly at Sam. “You…?”

“The memories are not very clear, but I do remember the taste of blood and flames. I remember you came with fire and burned the thing.”

Dean nodded. “Something more?”

Sam glanced at him timidly and then shook his head. “Only the hellhound on my tail.”

Dean swallowed disappointment (or relief? He couldn’t tell anymore) and nodded again. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.” Sam could take care of himself in daylight and Dean needed a while to come to terms with the fact that Sam remembered something from the night, but not the most embarrassing and in the same time the most sincere moment.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t find anything in the office. He had hoped that he would find some old uniform, but nothing like that was there. Just the mess talking about the ranger leaving in a hurry. After turning the place upside down even more, he found an old blanket.

He returned to Sam, who was already clothed in one of Dean’s clean T-shirts and his last clean pair of boxer-briefs.

“Dressed?” Dean asked with a smirk that was supposed to hide his true feelings. He didn’t want Sam to get a wind of anything that had something to do with Crowley and his stupid idea of sacrificing Sam in order to save the world once more. He was not giving up his brother this time. Never again. No way. Crowley could go get stuffed himself; they were working for him no more. Sam was not his soulless soldier anymore (even though it was Sam’s soul that Crowley needed this time). 

“Here,” he handed Sam the blanket. “No pants,” he shrugged, making an apologetic face. His brother didn’t say anything, just followed Dean silently from the forest.

It was quite disturbing how silent Sam had become. Since Dean had found him after Sam’s unsuccessful attempt to run away, Sam let Dean take the lead, not asking where they went and what they were going to do. As if it didn’t matter to him anymore. Maybe it even didn’t. Dean felt like he was losing his brother to something he could hardly compete with. Sam – Dean’s brother – was closing himself to Dean. Sam – the werewolf – was the one open, the one who loved Dean and was able to express that despite the darkness within him. The sincere one was the monster which Dean was supposed to hate and wipe out. The one whom he was supposed to love and protect was becoming a stranger. Not Dean’s little brother. Not Sam anymore. And it felt worse than riding with the emotionless shell of Sam before Death grabbed his soul out of the Cage.

“How’re your injuries?” he asked, hoping for a conversation, but he also wanted to make sure Sam was all right.

“Hm?”

“The wendigo threw you at a tree. It cracked like there was not just one bone broken.”

“Oh…” Sam gave a small nod. “That’s where the bruise comes from,” he said as though he was talking about someone else and not himself. “It hurts, but it’s getting better. I’ll be okay till the evening.”

“Good. What would you say if we lay low for a while?”

“There are people dying,” Sam reminded Dean, not even looking at him.

“Yeah, and there are also other hunters who can take care of them,” Dean said, sighing inwardly. “Come on, man, we’re tired, we need some rest.”

Sam didn’t say anything. He looked out from the window in a silent surrender. This was so not right…

They got into a town and Dean parked in front of a cheap hotel. “Wait here,” he said to Sam and went to rent a room.

He was back in a few minutes.

“Wrap yourself into the blanket and pretend that you’re my mentally challenged brother.”

Sam gave him a confused look. “What?”

“You heard me. Come on. We need to get you into the room without anyone calling police for your indecent exposure.”

Sam didn’t even roll his eyes as he would have done normally and got out from the car, wrapped in the blanket. He followed Dean into the hotel, his eyes wary and his walk uncertain.

As they entered the hotel, Sam hunched his shoulders and looked around nervously, sniffing the air. Dean wasn’t sure whether it was supposed to be a show or Sam really wanted to be sure the air was clear of any danger. Anyway, he wanted Sam to play retarded and Sam did a damn great job. The pitying look he got from the cute receptionist girl he talked to before told him that they didn’t need to be afraid of her calling cops.

“That’s him,” he said with a smile. “Sammy. Normally, he’s cute, but now he’s a bit nervous about the new surroundings.”

Sam’s eyes stopped on the receptionist. He lowered his head in a shy gesture, but didn’t stop watching curiously. She gave him a warm smile.

“Hello, Sammy,” she said kindly.

Sam didn’t react at all, but something about him changed. Suddenly, it was a fourteen-year-old boy whose eyes were asking his big brother a question that he wasn’t able to voice. Dean could still remember the innocence of a child mixed with curiosity of a teenager eager to know more about the matters of adults.

The adoration and complete trust in Sam’s eyes was something Dean had hoped would stay there forever. It had been there for a long time… and then it had disappeared so quickly Dean didn’t even have time to mourn the loss. Sam had been gone for college, the boy had decided to live the life of his own, and on one hand Dean was proud of him for not being afraid to be himself, but on the other he was scared of losing his brother to the strange world. Then Sam was back and there were times when Dean could glimpse the adoration in Sam’s eyes again. But it was before hellhounds came for him. After he returned, Sam didn’t look at him that way anymore. And now, when he saw Sam gazing at the girl in that shy, innocent way, it just felt natural that he would turn to Dean every moment and ask him the non-verbal question, expecting his big brother to understand and to give some valuable advice. It had always been like that…

But Sam didn’t turn to him, and Dean realized how much he missed his little brother for whom Dean was the absolute center of universe. For whom he would stop gazing at any girl in the vicinity and paid his full attention only to his awesome big brother.

Dean knew how foolish it was thinking like this. Sam grew up and went through so much shit that even God himself wouldn’t have been able to piece him together. Dean needed to learn to be grateful even for that little he still had of his brother and not to allow Sam to slip through his fingers completely.

“Let’s go, Sammy. You should rest,” he said as he grabbed his brother’s elbow in order to make him stop gaping at the girl, and with an apologetic smile at the receptionist, he pulled him to an elevator. That made Sam turn to him, and the innocence slipped away from his look. The show was over.

When they got into the room, Dean wasn’t able to look at Sam still wrapped in the blanket.

“Um… you stay here and have some sleep. I’m gonna buy you some decent clothes,” he said after they barely stepped into the room.

“Okay.” Sam’s voice was quiet and tired, and he got right into one of the beds.

Dean sighed. “I won’t be long.”

Sam didn’t reply so Dean left the room.

*

Sam buried his face into the pillow. He was sore and tired and wished for nothing else but good, long sleep, but the flickers of memories from the night kept him awake. He wanted to push them away, but he still could feel the terror of the hellhound chasing him and the rage when the wendigo wanted to hurt Dean. There was also something more, something blurred but nice and therefore scarier because how could something nice have happened if the whole forest reeked of sulfur and death?

He wanted to tell Dean, he really did, but he didn’t want to see the disappointment in his brother’s face or the horror of what Sam had become ever again. The hunger for demon blood, his old addiction, would only upset Dean, would put him into the chase for cure that both of them knew didn’t exist.

Sam was damned and he was pulling his brother down with him. He knew he should stop this, tell Dean to let go, that there was nothing he could do this time. Dean wouldn’t have listened anyway.

It was good to have Dean, who kept an eye on him. It was bad to have Dean, who wouldn’t have hesitated to sell his soul again if it had been the only way to save Sam.

The idea knocked all the air out of Sam’s lungs. He sat up abruptly and hurried to the window to look out. He could see the parking lot, but he couldn’t see Dean or their car anywhere. His breathing quickened. _Dammit, Dean!_ Sam knew he couldn’t let his brother do the same stupidity twice. Therefore he couldn’t tell him a word about his hunger. No. Sam had to fight it alone.

He was pacing the room, stopping by the window every now and then, waiting for his brother’s return impatiently. When he finally spotted Dean on the parking lot with two big plastic bags in his hands, he stopped breathing for a moment. He moved to the door, listening, and when he heard the rustle of the bags outside the room, he yanked the door open before Dean even had a chance to reach for the handle. He inhaled the air. No sulfur. Good.

“Will you let me in or will you stand in the doorway for the rest of the day?”

Sam backed into the room without saying a word. Dean walked in and handed Sam one of the bags. The other was obviously for him. It wasn’t just Sam who needed new clothes. Sam sighed. It was his fault.

“I’ll give you the money back,” he said as he pulled out a pair of jeans.

“Nah,” Dean just waved his hand. “It’s okay.”

No, it wasn’t. “Dean, I…”

“Shut up and get dressed,” Dean said sharply, but then his voice became gentler as he added: “You can pay for lunch. I found a diner where they serve pie.” He threw a package with a burger to Sam. “Breakfast.”

Sam nodded his thanks and his lips stretched into a small, quick smile. “You can have as much pie as you want.”

Dean glanced at him, chomping on his own burger. “I know I can.”

Sam had to smile again. He shook his head and put the burger away before he pulled on the jeans. It was amazing how perfectly they fitted.

“Good?”

“Great.” Another crack of a smile on Sam’s face. His brother was awesome.

He reached into the bag again, pulling out other jeans and a few shirts and T-shirts.

“What’s this?” he asked as he showed Dean a pink T-shirt.

Dean smiled innocently. “I thought it would match your sweet nature.”

Sam’s face hardened. His brother was an idiot. “We’re not five anymore,” he growled and threw the T-shirt into the bag. Dean’s smile faded.

Sam pulled off Dean’s T-shirt he wore and reached for one of the pile of his new ones, checking whether there was no My Little Pony or Hannah Montana logo on any of them. He could feel Dean’s eyes on him. He raised his head and looked at his brother. Dean was staring at him like Sam was an alien or something.

“The… bruise,” Dean said finally.

Sam looked at the large dark spot decorating his ribs and he shrugged. “It’ll be gone soon,” he said as though it didn’t even matter. To be honest, it didn’t. Not to Sam. But obviously it did to Dean.

“Dammit, Sam. This is not right…”

“What _is_ right?” Sam asked and turned Dean his back. Before he had a time to pull on the T-shirt, he could hear a silent gasp. He rolled his eyes. “What?”

“There’s a scar on your shoulder blade…” Dean’s voice sounded broken and sorry and Sam felt guilty again. He turned back to Dean only to see remorse in his big green eyes.

“No, Dean. No regrets,” he blurted. It was breaking him even more seeing Dean like this. “You did the right thing.”

“How can you say that? You don’t even remember,” Dean said angrily and turned away from Sam.

“But I know you,” Sam said softly. “I know you wouldn’t have shot if you had had a choice.”

Dean snorted, but said nothing.

Sam sighed. “Pull yourself together,” he said firmly and put on the T-shirt before he reached for one of the plaid shirts Dean brought him. At least they were decent. “We’re going to that diner you found so that you could eat as much pie as you manage to get into that bottomless pit you call stomach.”

Dean glanced at him and Sam grinned.

“You’re paying,” Dean said.

Sam nodded. “I am.”

“Agreed.”

The smile Dean gave him was the best thing that happened to Sam in the last few days.

“But after we get some sleep,” Dean added, and his smile widened. He finished his burger and threw himself on the other bed, still grinning at his brother. Sam chuckled and followed Dean’s example. He was tired himself and a little nap didn’t sound like a bad idea.

*

They woke up after a few hours and decided to have late lunch in the diner Dean mentioned before. Dean managed to eat four big pieces of apple pie while Sam couldn’t stop teasing him for that. Sam checked the press for a new case, but he found nothing, and Dean looked pretty delighted by that.

“I told you let’s lay low for a while.”

Sam just raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. They spent the rest of the day outside, talking about everything and nothing in particular (or nothing important if Sam wanted to be specific), both avoiding mentioning all the shit that lay between them. Why to ruin a nice day, right? So they kept pretending how great they were and just enjoyed lazing around.

They returned to the hotel only when the sun was setting, bringing their supper (burgers again and a six-pack of beer) with them. They made a short stop at the reception desk just because the girl from the morning was still there and she was smiling broadly at them. Sam didn’t like her. Dean apparently did.

“Hey, guys,” she greeted them, and it was a clear invitation for Dean to try his luck. Sam rolled his eyes when he saw the familiar smile which usually enabled Dean to get into girls’ panties. Well-trained, cheap, and mostly effective. Sam wondered how come only so few women were able to look through it. Dean was a pro, Sam had to admit. And this girl… she was already his.

“Hi, Sammy,” the girl greeted him. She obviously wanted to be nice, but Sam already accused her of not ignoring Dean’s ‘retarded’ little brother just because she wanted to get the big boy into bed. He didn’t reply, just kept gazing at the girl.

Dean turned to him with that professional smile of a macho man. “Come on, Sammy. How did I teach you? Just be a good boy and say ‘Hello, Grace’.”

The girl giggled and smiled at Sam. “Your brother takes good care of you, right, Sammy?” _Oh, you have no idea!_ “You look adorable in that outfit he got for you.”

Dean made a smug face and grinned at his ‘mentally challenged’ brother. Okay, Sam could play along, but it didn’t mean he would be nice.

“It’s Sam for you,” he said, glaring at the girl and earning a what-the-hell look from Dean. He turned to his brother and made the most innocent face he could. “You said we’d watch the game when we got back.” At least it was their original plan before Dean started flirting with the girl.

Dean glowered and handed him the key from the room. “You can start without me. I’ll come in a while.”

“You said we’d watch it together.”

The look Dean gave him was eloquent enough, telling Sam to cut it out right away or he wouldn’t make it till the next day.

“Um… it’s okay. I still have too much work to do,” the receptionist said, and it was the first wise thing Sam heard from her. “I finish at ten if you’d like to go for a drink,” she said to Dean suddenly. “You can take Sammy… um, Sam,” Sam smirked, “with us.”

Dean glanced at Sam. “I’m afraid it’s not possible,” he said, and Sam could hear true regret in his voice. “Sammy here goes to sleep early and he’s afraid of dark. I can’t take him with us and I can’t leave him alone either.”

The girl smiled. “Hey, Sam, you know that bogeymen don’t exist, right?” She obviously thought she was funny. Wrong! She sounded stupid.

Sam shrugged and pointed at Dean. “He said they do and I believe him more than you. Besides, he said I shouldn’t talk to strangers because they could be monsters, too, so I shouldn’t talk to you either. How can I know you’re not one of them?” He tugged at Dean’s sleeve. “Let’s get back to the room before she eats us.” 

Dean’s glare was totally worth the show. “I’ll kill you,” he growled so that only Sam could hear him and moved to the elevator. Sam smiled at the girl contentedly, but he was sure his look was talking ‘hands off’ as well, because the girl wriggled nervously as he followed his brother.

“Dammit, Sam, what the hell was that supposed to mean?” Dean exploded as the door of their room was safely shut behind them.

Sam shrugged. “She smelled,” he said indifferently and unwrapped his burger.

Dean groaned. “You’re saying that every time.”

“I can’t help it. My sense of smell is too keen.”

Dean scowled. “I’ll give you keen!” He was on his way right towards Sam when Sam cleverly threw him the other burger. Dean caught it in the air and looked daggers at Sam. “You do it again and I’ll disinherit you.” He stuffed the burger into the pocket of his jacket and moved to the door.

“Hey, where’re you goin’?” Sam asked, panicked. Maybe he really overdid it this time.

“Out. Don’t follow me if you don’t want me to start giving punches.”

“Dean! Dean, come on. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. Just… don’t go, please. I won’t do it again.” Sam didn’t even know why he felt like it was vitally important to stop Dean from going anywhere. “I’m sorry,” he added in a placating tone and looked at Dean pleadingly, handing him a bottle of beer.

Dean gave him a mistrustful look. “You are, huh?”

“Yeah, I am. Sorry, man.”

Dean took the beer, still watching Sam. Sam gave him a small, apologetic smile. It seemed it finally worked. Dean sat down on his bed and turned on the TV. Sam plopped on the other bed. They both were eating their burgers silently, watching a football match.

Sam finished his burger first. He reached into the bag with the new clothes and pulled out the pink T-shirt. He noticed Dean stopped watching the game and was staring at him instead. Sam smirked, taking off the T-shirt he was wearing and pulled on the pink one.

“Dude!” The corners of Dean’s mouth were twitching with stifled laughter.

“What?”

“Have you really just put on that pink shit?”

Sam sniggered. “Pink is my favorite color.”

Dean laughed. “I knew that!”

“That’s because you raised me like a girl,” Sam sniggered.

“I didn’t. I only helped you to discover your true identity,” Dean shot back, grinning, and drank from the beer.

Sam chuckled. “Now I get the Barbie for Christmas when I was eight.”

“See? It had its purpose.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

They grinned at each other before they moved their attention back to the TV.

*

Dean glanced at Sam when his brother insulted the team Dean was cheering for. He grinned contentedly and took a big gulp of the beer. It was their ritual since childhood cheering for different teams just to make fun of each other. This was another thing that felt like old times, only this time Dean could savor it with the ‘day’ Sam. He smiled and watched as a player from Sam’s team scored.

“Ha! Now they’re winning!” Sam shouted cheerfully.

“Not for too long,” Dean replied. “They’re just one point ahead.”

“Nah, they’re better, just admit that.”

Dean looked at Sam sprawled on the bed in the pink T-shirt. “I’ll admit that if you admit that you’re a girl.”

“I’m a girl and you’re an asshole.”

“You’re an asshole yourself.”

Sam sniggered and Dean grinned. He didn’t care about the cute receptionist. He wouldn’t have exchanged this carefree moment with Sam for anything. They felt like brothers again – something he thought had been long forgotten. Today, they allowed themselves to pretend that the mistrust that had settled between them didn’t exist. They took it easy, just talking about common stuff and teasing, testing how much they had lost and how much they still had, and the revelation was both comforting and disappointing. They still could laugh together, it just took much more effort than any time before.

Dean realized Sam became quiet and he turned to look at him, finding out that his brother was sleeping, curled up on the sheets like a big dog, breathing softly into his pillow. Dean turned off the TV and went to bed as well.

*

Sam slept well that night, didn’t wake up even once… at least Dean guessed. He got his time of a good sleep himself, so when he got up late in the morning in a good mood and found out Sam was still sound asleep, he decided to try his luck with the receptionist one more time, hoping Sam hadn’t destroyed all Dean’s chances with her. Dean only regretted he hadn’t asked her out while Sam was trapped in the room without pants, but Sam was first, fun came only after (or it would have if his little brother hadn’t decided to be a total bitch).

To his displeasure instead of the cute receptionist girl Dean found a bulky guy at the desk. Maybe the girl had a day off. Dean sighed. Shit happened, he had to deal with it.

When he returned, Sam was still sleeping. Normally his little brother didn’t sleep so much, so Dean guessed that the transformation and the healing process cost him quite a lot of energy as well as the fights he got into.

Sam got up only short before noon, yawning and rubbing his still sleepy eyes, yet he managed to snatch after the coffee Dean handed him with the swiftness of a hungry wolf.

“Hey, easy,” Dean reminded him, but Sam obviously had no problem with the hot beverage, indulging in its taste. “Better?” Dean asked him after a while.

“Uhm,” Sam nodded and smiled over his cup.

After having their breakfast, they packed their crap and got into another town just late in the afternoon. The ride was mostly quiet, but there was no tension in the air this time. When Dean got out from the shower after they rented a room at a motel, he found Sam checking on the internet.

“Looking for a job?”

“Nope. For a place to have dinner in.”

“Did you find something?”

“Actually, I did,” Sam said and there was a big grin on his face. “I found a steakhouse. Here’s the menu.” He pushed the laptop in Dean’s direction.

Dean skimmed through the site and looked at Sam. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go.”

Sam chuckled and followed Dean out from the room.

Everything was fine, talking was easy and Dean even decided to overlook the fact that Sam ordered his steak rare instead of usual well done. Things changed when Dean started flirting with the waitress who brought their meals. The deep growl from Sam’s seat could hardly escape the attention of the girl, and when Dean saw his brother’s look, he was just glad he wasn’t the girl. It was a clear warning which could be easily interpreted like ‘If you don’t want me to gut you alive, leave him alone.’ Then Sam took a fork and stabbed the steak with so much force that the juice spurted out from the meat. Sam couldn’t be more eloquent. The waitress gulped and hurried away, obviously convinced that if she had stayed a bit longer, she would have become a victim of an extremely bloody murder.

Dean’s appetite was gone at once. He threw a few notes on the table, grabbed Sam, who was already half-way through his steak, and pulled him out from the steakhouse like a five-year-old brat.

“What _the hell_ is wrong with you?” he yelled when they were sitting in the car.

“She…” Sam started, but he was cut off immediately.

“Tell me she smelled and I’ll punch you.”

Sam stayed quiet, just wriggled in his seat.

“What’s up with you? Why are you doing this?” Dean demanded, not shouting this time, but Sam kept quiet anyway. “As you wish. You don’t wanna talk, we don’t need to talk,” Dean said and started the car.

They didn’t talk, but Dean noticed Sam’s stealthy glances when he thought Dean didn’t look. There was regret in his face, but no words of apology came from him. Dean dropped him at the motel.

“Stay in the room. No walks, understood?” 

Sam frowned. “Where are you going?”

“To a bar.”

“Dean…”

“Shut up. Don’t you dare leave the room. You’re grounded.”

“Dean, I’m not a kid…”

“Then stop behaving like one. I mean it, Sam. Don’t go anywhere until I get back, okay?”

Sam huffed.

“ _Okay?_ ” Dean demanded, putting more stress into the word.

“Okay,” Sam finally grunted, grimacing.

“Good. I won’t be long,” Dean promised and started the car. He could see Sam in the rearview mirror, reminding him of the last time it happened, and he felt guilty. Dean pushed that feeling away and parked in front of the first bar he could find.

He ordered double whiskey with ice. He needed space – to breathe some air, to think what to do… He noticed that there was more and more of a werewolf that slipped into Sam’s waking hours. It wasn’t just about the sharp senses and the healing speed, but also about his stance, his moves, his look, and his growing appetite. He was growling at people when he didn’t like them and his protectiveness of Dean bordered on possessiveness. It was as though a wild animal didn’t want to let anyone in its territory. Dean found this fact rather disturbing since it meant Sam was still changing into something dark and animalistic.

He knew he was there before he even raised his head from the whiskey. He could feel Sam’s presence like a brush of a warm wind from the south, gentle, but you still knew it could burn you from inside if it got stronger and you could do nothing just surrender.

“I told you to stay in the room,” he said without looking at Sam, who took a seat beside him.

There was silence for a few heartbeats and then “I’m sorry” said in a low voice.

Dean cradled the glass in front of him in his hands. “No, you’re not. If you want to stay here, stop lying to me at least,” he said before he drank from the whiskey. The ice clanged against the walls of the glass.

There was silence again, but Dean knew Sam wouldn’t manage to stay quiet for long. And really, he barely stood the glass on the counter and he could hear his brother speaking again:

“I don’t know what got into me.”

Dean snorted. “A werewolf. That’s what got into you.”

“Uh…” was Sam’s only reply.

Dean straightened up and finally turned to Sam. “Uh? That’s all you say?”

Sam tilted his head to the side. “What do you want me to say?”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe some answers. Maybe I hoped you’d tell me why you’re doing this.”

Sam hunched his shoulders, trying to look smaller as usual when his brother was pissed at him. Guilt, Dean recognized it immediately and he had to turn away if he didn’t want to puke right into Sam’s lap. That look of a kicked puppy made him sick.

“I don’t know why,” Sam said, and his voice trembled. “I just know I don’t want anyone close to you.”

 _Possessive bastard,_ Dean thought but he didn’t say it aloud. He started doubting Meg’s theory about a good fuck and even a kill to keep Sam under control. He had a bad feeling there was nothing that could stop Sam from changing into a true beast. He downed the rest of the whiskey.

“Let’s get back,” he said heavily and walked out from the bar, knowing that Sam was right behind him.

*

They didn’t talk that evening anymore. Sam sat down on the bed and didn’t move from there until Dean had his shower and crawled into bed. While Sam was in the bathroom, Dean was thinking about how great the day could be and how stupidly it ended. They were strangers again.

He couldn’t sleep that night – unlike his brother, who didn’t seem to have such a problem. Dean got an impression that Sam was already half-asleep when he got out from the shower. He was staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out what to do, how to stop this, how to make Sam human again and save him from Purgatory.

A soft rustle of sheets came from the other bed. Sam stood up and crossed the three feet between their beds.

“Dean?”

He could pretend he was sleeping but he knew Sam would know he was awake anyway. Besides, he was curious which of two Sams this one was and what he wanted.

“Yes?”

“I’m lonely.” The words were soft, but felt like a razor. Dean felt the same; he felt lonely for quite some time, but hearing that from Sam was making it even worse. He was quiet and Sam was waiting, probably didn’t even breathe. Dean didn’t know what to say, but Sam obviously wanted him to solve this, to take that weight from him. He ran a hand over his face and did what he used to do when they were kids and Sam got scared of whatever he came up with was trying to get to them from the darkness: he raised the covers and said “Come ‘ere.”

Maybe it wasn’t right letting his adult (and overgrown) brother into the same bed, but having Sam cuddled to him so close and with his nose pressed to Dean’s neck, it felt nice and familiar and call him a pervert, but he enjoyed it! Sam’s hand was stretched over his chest in quite a possessive manner, but instead of making Dean feel uncomfortable it made him feel needed.

Sam sighed into his neck contentedly and his breathing became slow and regular in no more than a few seconds. It took Dean a few hesitant moments to wrap his arms around Sam and the quiet happy purr he heard was enough of a reward for him. He smiled and turned his head to Sam, taking a deep breath of his little brother’s scent.

“Bitch,” he whispered, his voice full of emotion, and he closed his eyes.

He would have a lot to explain in the morning, but he didn’t care right now. He didn’t want to care. Sam needed him, needed him like this, and he couldn’t care less whether it was right or wrong. It didn’t matter at the moment.


	4. Hunger Games

Dean woke up to the pleasant warmth of the embrace of two strong arms wrapped around him and a broad chest pressed against his back. He could feel Sam’s nose buried in his hair and his brother was apparently still sound asleep. Dean sighed and pushed the urge to run his hand down Sam’s forearm. He didn’t try to get up this time, knowing Sam would have woken up immediately, and Dean wanted to give him a way out from this embarrassing situation.

Sam breathed out and tightened the grip for a moment. Dean’s body went rigid, but then he relaxed quickly, trying to pretend he was still asleep. It was Sam’s nose that was gone at first, then the warmth of his chest, and then Sam pulled away completely. He got up and crossed the distance between their beds so silently that Dean could barely hear him.

Dean tried hard to keep his breathing slow and even, and he hoped that he could fool Sam like this. He should have known better…

“Dean.”

It wasn’t a question. Dean shut his eyes tight and kept pretending that he was still sleeping, although it was already a futile effort.

“Dean, I know you’re awake.”

 _Little bitch._ Dean sighed and rolled on his back. He glanced at Sam sitting on the other bed and watching him. A comforter was cast over his long legs and his hands were folded in his lap. Sam looked like he wanted to say something, but when Dean looked at him, he forgot what it was. He looked away and stood up – the comforter slid from his legs elegantly – turning away from Dean in a swift motion and walking into the bathroom.

“You should have shut up,” Dean muttered under his breath after the door of the bathroom was safely closed. He sighed and shifted to the side of the bed where he still could feel Sam’s warmth.

*

Sam stripped hastily and stepped into the shower. Hot water was flowing down his trembling body in many thin streams. Sam groaned, lowering his head and biting strongly into his lower lip. The faint coppery taste of blood only fueled his excitement. Sam thought he would shatter into pieces if his body didn’t get what it wanted so badly. He braced one hand against the wall while he grabbed his cock as hard as a rock with the other. He couldn’t help the loud moan escape his mouth.

He was jerking off under the shower, every pull fast, rough, violent. Pain was mixing with pleasure, whines with excited moans… water with tears. When his body screamed for a gentle touch, he grabbed firmer, pulled harder, squeezed more urgently. By the time the orgasm claimed him and his body shuddered uncontrollably under the hot stream of water, his cock was sore and bleeding from the tiny cuts Sam’s nails left in the thin, sensitive skin. His cry was muffled by strong teeth biting in the poor lip, the spurt of blood coloring it in crimson red.

Sam’s body shuddered with the afterglow and he looked at his hand dirtied with pearly droplets. He sniffed, shutting his eyes tight. He shivered again, but this time with guilt and disgust. He fisted his hands, nails digging into his palms, causing him a new pain. Sam opened his eyes and turned off the hot water angrily, letting only the cold stream caress his overheated body.

Sam sank on his knees, unable to stop the sobs he was trying to suppress so hard. Hot tears were rolling down his cheeks and he didn’t even try to wipe them away. His chest felt like it was about to shatter into a million tiny pieces, each of them dark, bloody… loathsome. He wrapped his arms around his chest as though he wanted to stop himself from breaking. He felt filthy and despicable. He wanted to blame Dean for everything – for being too good and protective, for being there every time his little brother needed him, for helping, loving, supporting, for raising Sam when Dad didn’t have time, for playing with him, teasing, feeding, dressing, holding Sam’s hand and wiping off his tears, teaching, lying, saying unpleasant truth, kicking his ass and calling him stubborn, trying to give Sam as much normalcy as he was able to, arguing with Dad for Sam’s sake… letting Sam go to college without saying a word and not knowing about the true reason why it was so important to Sam to go and leave his big brother behind, Sam wanted to blame him for coming for him seven years ago and taking him away from Jessica, the girl who was supposed to help Sam to forget his perverted affection for his big brother. Dean destroyed that when he turned up in Sam and Jessica’s apartment. And Sam wanted to hate him for all of that, for all the years of yearning and not showing it, of suffering from the feelings that had to stay hidden and never voiced.

Dean shaped him, made Sam who he was, formed his world and captured him there. Sam wanted to hate him for that invisible chain that was binding him to all of that even when he wanted to run away and never look back. When he thought he finally managed that, Dean grabbed the chain and pulled him back and Sam felt ashamed for the bitter-sweet happiness that settled in his chest again. His efforts to suppress that feeling turned out to be futile. He liked Jessica… loved her… but there was no one who could compete with Sam’s big brother. Sam belonged to Dean and there was no way out of it.

Sam wrapped his arms around himself tighter and bent forward, the cold water was running down his back and into his hair and eyes and mouth…

Dean screwed him. Dean screwed him so much there was no chance for Sam to be repaired. He was a broken puppet, unable to live without his brother. He needed Dean close, even though it meant suffering.

His forehead touched the cold bottom of the tub and he stretched out his hands, palms flat on the white glaze. Then he balled his hands in fists and gave a loud sob.

“Dean…”

Beating on the door. 

“Sam, you okay? You’re there for more than half-hour already.”

Sam raised his head and looked at the door. “I’m… fine,” he said in a strangled voice, hoping Dean didn’t notice that. “Give me a few more minutes.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Sam turned the water off and got out from the shower. The fluffy motel towel felt good on his cold skin. His bitten lip was still bleeding and even when he washed it, the blood kept reappearing. Sam sighed. He would make Dean worried again…

He dressed and opened the door hesitantly. His eyes met Dean’s immediately…

*

When Dean saw the tiny droplets of blood on Sam’s lip and his brother shivering all over (even though Sam seemed he didn’t even notice), he got scared. He already felt awkward for what had happened before Sam hid in the bathroom, but he hoped that Sam would have his shower and they would do what they were so good at – pretending that it never happened. But seeing Sam like this… he could hardly ignore that.

“Damn, Sam, what were you doing there? You’re bleeding, man!”

Sam wiped the blood away. “It’s nothing,” he said blankly. “I just bit my lip.”

Dean frowned and came up to Sam. He reached out and made the bitch raise his head so that he could have a better look at his abused lip and…

“Jesus Christ, Sam!” he cried and touched Sam’s cold arm lightly. “Has no one ever told you that cold showers are supposed to be quick?” He grabbed him and pulled into the room. He made Sam sit down on his bed and wrapped a comforter around his shoulders. “Crap, Sam, you behave like a stupid kid. What the hell got into you?”

Sam cast his look to the floor and turned his head slightly to bury his nose into the comforter. It was the one under which they had slept together. Sam inhaled and closed his eyes. Water was dripping from his wet hair behind his collar and Sam kept shivering. Dean rolled his eyes at his brother and brought him a towel. Since Sam showed no interest in it, Dean took care of his damp hair himself. Sam stayed quiet and motionless, but his whole body went rigid.

“You’re crazy,” Dean huffed as he was trying to dry Sam’s hair as much as he could. “I hope you have a good explanation for your attempt to freeze in the shower.”

Sam didn’t raise his head, but he looked at Dean anyway.

“… why?” sounded a quiet question.

Dean gave his brother a confused look. “What why? That’s my question.”

“Why were we…?” Sam’s voice trailed off and he glanced at Dean’s bed.

Dean understood and he scowled at Sam mistrustfully. “Why does it bother you so much?”

Something in Sam’s eyes and his whole stance altogether didn’t seem right. His brother curled up under the comforter, throwing shy glances in Dean’s direction.

“Sam? What are you hiding from me?” Dean could be patient, but Sam sank deeper into the comforter as though he wanted to disappear from Dean’s view. “What’s up? Come on, speak.” He could see nothing more of Sam anymore than his watchful hazel eyes and a damp mane of brown hair.

Sam shook his head slowly. “I can’t. I can’t tell you. Just… leave me alone.”

Dean straightened his back and gave a slight nod. “Leave you alone. Okay.” If Sam didn’t want to talk, fine. He was not going to force him. Dean put on his jacket and grabbed the key from his bedside table. He left the room without looking back at his brother still huddled in the comforter.

He closed the door silently (why to make a fuss?) and turned the key in the lock. He knew that if he really wanted to keep Sam in the room, the locked door weren’t enough. Sam knew that as well, but Dean hoped he would understand that he was supposed to stay there until Dean came back.

Dean thrust his hands into his pockets, annoyed. Why it always had to end like this? When he thought things could get better something went wrong? Why was Sam so secretive?

“Stupid bitch, always keeping secrets,” he growled for himself as he walked into Starbucks to get them strong morning coffee. As he guessed, they both would appreciate it.

* 

When Dean returned, he found Sam still sitting on the bed, huddled in the comforter.

“Hey, here you are,” he said as he handed his brother a plastic cup with the coffee.

Sam looked at him warily from his shelter and he reached for the cup hesitantly.  Now he reminded Dean of an animal much more than during the time when he shifted.

“Are you hiding from me?”

Sam cast his look down.

Dean sat on Sam’s bed, careful about the proximity between them. He didn’t want Sam to run away and hide in the bathroom again. He had a bad feeling that this time it would have been just worse.

“If I had known that you would freak out, I would never have let you into my bed.” It was supposed to be an apology for anything that bugged Sam so much about the whole sleeping-in-the-same-bed thing.

Sam cradled the cup in his giant hands, but he didn’t drink from it – totally unlike to his recent habit of literally wrenching a cup of coffee out from Dean’s hands when he was offered one. “Why did you do that?” he asked timidly.

“You looked like you needed it,” Dean said simply. He expected surprise, anger, denial, shame, but surely not recognition. Dean looked into Sam’s dog eyes, the silent confession in them crystal-clear. “Sammy?”

Sam shook his head and looked away. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” he said huskily and put the plastic cup on his bedside table before he lay down, his back turned to Dean.

Dean swallowed a bitter remark. “Are you gonna sleep?” he asked instead.

“Yeah,” Sam replied and tightened the comforter around him.

Dean sighed and stood up. “As you wish…” he muttered and left Sam alone.

He didn’t know how to feel about this revelation. On one hand, he felt needed again. That was what shaped him, made him who he was, gave him the reason to live. On the other, the fact that Sam didn’t want to voice it, preferred it to be unspoken, maybe didn’t want to talk about it like _ever…_ that hurt.

Dean glanced at Sam, who evidently didn’t have a problem to fall asleep… or he was just pretending, Dean really didn’t feel like checking out. If Sam didn’t want to talk, it was better to be quite. What frightened Dean was the fact that he could see how Sam was changing in front of his eyes and he was unable to stop it.

He sat down at a table and started the laptop. He could use the time at least and try to find something useful… or a new job. That didn’t require thinking about how shitty their relationship got, so Sam was not going to freak out… hopefully.

*

The day passed in relative silence. Sam got up after a few hours and the most he told Dean was the statement that he was hungry. He didn’t left the room for the whole day and Dean was quite satisfied with it. He brought Sam his meal and Sam wolfed it down in no time. He looked rather nervous about something and got more talkative only in the evening when they were watching some TV show. He was constantly bitching about the stupidity of the characters, and when Dean flipped to the porn channel and so made Sam shut his mouth finally, the result of the whole thing was that Sam was watching the porn with much more interest than Dean could see him any time before, and then he disappeared in the bathroom for more than half-hour, most likely to jerk off. When he got out, he was looking daggers at Dean. He crawled into his bed, wrapping himself into the comforter, pretending he was sleeping. Dean turned the sound down, but kept watching a busty beauty having her way with a gifted guy. 

Sam seemed to be sleeping by the time Dean turned off the TV and got into bed as well. He couldn’t sleep for too long when he heard a soft voice talking to him.

“Dean.”

He opened his eyes and squinted into the dark. “What’s up, Sam?”

“I’m hungry.”

“There are some leftovers on the table…”

“No, I’m _hungry_ ,” Sam said, emphasizing the last word. Dean could hear a slight hint of shame in the undertone and he understood at last. 

“Hungry as in you wanna rip someone into shreds?” he asked cautiously.

“Uhm.”

Damn… Dean uncurled from under his comforter and sat up, looking around. He should have known better than leaving the gun with silver bullets in the duffel. A few nights without transformation didn’t prove anything. He should have known that it was a false feeling of safety and Sam could tear him into pieces like a rag doll any time he wanted to.

Sam took his hand and put something hard and cold in it. _The gun!_ Dean looked up at his brother, who stepped back and waited silently.

“I can’t let you go out like this,” he said, his voice shaking with suppressed anger.

“I know,” Sam said calmly.

Dean clenched the gun in his hand. The cold metal was burning his skin with guilt and hopelessness.

“Get dressed. We’re leaving in five minutes,” he snarled into the silence and fumbled for his own pants. Sam obeyed without any objection, not asking where they were going. Even when they sat in the car he didn’t say anything. Instead of the passenger seat Sam occupied the back seat, nails digging into the leather. He was trying to restrain himself, but it was obviously getting harder.

“How long?” he asked, glancing out from the window at the sleeping houses.

“Just out of the town.”

Sam nodded and started undressing. Dean gulped. This was so wrong… He glanced into the rearview mirror and had to appreciate his brother’s muscled body. The little, skinny Sammy turned into a real macho boy. Dean could be proud of him. It was just… the perfections of Sam’s body were not meant for him, so he should stop staring at him in the rearview mirror. Obviously, they were not meant even for some nice and sweet woman who would cherish Dean’s little brother with all her love. That was a hunter’s life. Dean felt sick by the thought that the only ones who would appreciate Sam’s mortal frame would be cheap sluts who would never be able to look at what was under…

“Dean…”

Dean looked into the mirror. He could see Sam’s eyes big and dark and scared. He was shaking and griping the backrest of the passenger seat in front of him. He looked like he was about to rip it.

“Okay, Sammy. Give me a minute.” They were already out of the town, but Dean wanted to get Sam as far away as he could.

“Too much,” Sam whined and his body shook violently.

Dean cursed in his mind and pulled the car to the side of the road. They weren’t far enough. He turned off the engine. Sam bolted out from the car and vanished in the thick forest.

Long, loud howl cut the silence around. Dean locked the doors of the car and glanced at the gun with the silver bullets lying in the passenger seat and ready for emergency. Dean sighed. All he could do now was wait.

*

Sam returned after approximately two hours, waking Dean up from an uneasy dream. He was covered with blood and bleeding himself from several deep wounds, limping, but obviously satisfied. He was smiling and it looked creepy with all the drying blood around his mouth and on his chin. Dean thought he was going to be sick.

He got out from the car and handed Sam a handkerchief to wipe the blood from his face at least. Sam’s eyes were gleaming in the starlight with childish joy and he ignored the offered handkerchief, trying to minimize the distance between him and his brother instead.

Dean put a hand on Sam’s chest, keeping him away. “Not until you have a shower. Here.” He offered Sam the handkerchief again and this time he was successful. Sam took it from him, but at first he sniffed at it and only then started wiping the blood off of his face and hands. Dean nodded encouragingly and Sam smiled.

“Before you get in the car, get dressed.” They didn’t need the back seat to get dirtier than necessary.

Barely the soft fabric of Sam’s T-shirt touched his chest, the blood started soaking through it. Dean sighed and hoped the healing process wouldn’t take long. The wounds looked really bad.

Sam got in the back seat again. His joy was gone and he was frowning, tugging at the clothes that were touching his open wounds and growling quietly.

“So… who didn’t make it tonight?” Dean asked, trying to distract Sam and also make sure it was just an animal that paid so dearly for crossing the path of the werewolf.

“A bear. Grizzly,” Sam said matter-of-factly and took off the T-shirt. Blood was still gushing from his wounds.

“Put it on, Sam,” Dean said authoritatively.

“No. It’s… uncomfortable.”

“We’ll be right back in the motel. You’ll take it off then, but now put it on.”

Sam growled but obeyed.

“Good boy.”

Sam leaned forward. Dean glanced at him. “What?”

“Your boy,” Sam said, and a flicker of smile appeared on his face.

“Huh?” Dean wanted to glance at him again, but Sam had already pulled back in his seat, so Dean allowed himself to look into the rearview mirror. Sam was frowning now, unable to find a comfortable position to sit because of his injuries. He kept being fidgety until they got back to the motel.

“Can I take these off?” Sam asked when they were finally in the room.

Dean nodded his agreement. “In the bathroom,” he added. “Take a shower.”

Sam frowned. “I don’t wanna.”

Dean glared. “Sam.” There was warning in his voice.

“I have open wounds. It’ll hurt.”

“Sam,” Dean addressed him once again in that commanding voice.

“Dean.” It was a plea.

“No. You won’t get in bed unless you wash off all that blood. Don’t forget the hair.”

Sam was staring at him in a way as though Dean just told him that Godzilla was coming to take Sam to her nest as a meal for her babies. He moved slowly into the bathroom.

Dean sighed. “Good boy.” A quiet, short growl was a reply he got before Sam shut the door behind his back.

Dean shook his head. He found the first aid kit and put it on the table.

He was waiting for Sam to get out from the bathroom. It took him quite a long time. When he peeped out, he looked surprised to find Dean still awake.

“Why didn’t you go to sleep?”

“We should take care of the wounds, shouldn’t we?”

“Um… they’ll heal in no time.”

“Probably. But they are bleeding like hell now.” Dean took the kit and wanted to go to the bathroom. “We’ll bandage them at least so that you won’t dirty the sheets, okay?”

“Um…” Sam looked nervous.

Dean raised an eyebrow and forced himself into the bathroom. There was steam from the hot water, but Sam was still wearing his dirty clothes and he didn’t look any cleaner than before he went there.

“You didn’t take the shower,” Dean stated and put the kit on the washbasin. He looked into the mirror, seeing Sam standing behind him with the guilty expression of a pup. “Get naked,” Dean ordered. He had already seen Sam naked and one more time wouldn’t kill him. If this was what it took to make Sam shower, he would do it.

Sam whined and the plea was back in his eyes.

“Sam, I won’t say it twice.” Why did it feel like when they were children and Sam didn’t want to listen to what his big brother was telling him?    

Sam huffed and reached for the hem of his T-shirt. Dean could see his hesitation in the mirror. He still didn’t turn to Sam as though he wanted to give him some privacy, but it was completely ruined by the treacherous mirror.

“Sam,” Dean warned him.

Sam finally stripped, glaring at Dean.

“Shower.”

Sam got into the shower cubicle and turned on the water in slow streams.

Dean was reaching his limit. He was tired and wanted to get back to bed as soon as possible. He turned away from the mirror and came up to the cubicle. Sam gazed at him, wide-eyed. Dean increased the pressure of the water. Sam pulled away from the stream.

“Dammit, Sam!”

Dean had enough. _Desperate times call for desperate measures,_ he thought, taking off his own T-shirt and jeans, leaving only boxers. He got into the cubicle himself and reached for Sam, but he underestimated Sam’s unwillingness to get his wounds wet. Only after he had been shoved against a wall and he could see nothing but stars, he realized that trying to make a werewolf do something he so vehemently didn’t agree with was a foolish idea.

“Dean! Dean, are you okay?” Sam’s fingers were checking the back of his head. Dean could only wonder how the freaking bitch was able to avoid the water, but the fact made him even angrier.

“No, I’m not okay. What the hell, Sam?” he exploded.

Sam’s eyes glistened with wetness, and that guilty expression Dean hated so much settled on his face. “I’m so sorry.”

“I bet you are. If you wanna make it better, just take the stupid shower so that we can get back in beds,” Dean growled, pushing Sam away right under the stream. Sam didn’t fight back this time, but he hissed when the water got into the wounds.

“It stings,” he whined.

“I don’t get it. You don’t mind a grizzly slitting your body but you mind a bit of water?”

“Adrenaline,” Sam explained shortly, trying to get away from under the shower again, but Dean held him still.

“Let me,” he said in a soothing voice. He ran his hand up Sam’s biceps to his shoulder and then higher into his hair. He started washing the dry blood out from Sam’s wild mane and Sam only whined and shut his eyes, his body all tense, but he let Dean do the business. Dean washed his hair carefully as though he was dealing with a child and not with an adult man.

“You can do the rest yourself, right?” he said when he was done with his brother’s hair. Sam made a face – something between a pout and a glare – but didn’t reply. Dean left him alone in the shower, dried himself quickly and collected his clothes, and then he went to change the soaked boxers for dry ones.

When he returned into the bathroom, he was wearing jeans but no T-shirt (in order not to smudge it with Sam’s blood). Sam’s wounds were still bleeding, although it was much better now. Bandages should do the job until the wounds closed completely. Sam had just gotten out from the shower with a towel wound around his hips. There were deep wounds on his chest, left arm and left thigh.

Dean wetted a clean towel and wiped the still oozing blood from the worst looking wound on Sam’s chest gently before he bandaged it. He did the same with the other two. Sam was tense and motionless the whole time, his hands fisted and his eyes watchful and wary.

“Okay, we’re done,” Dean said after some time. Sam bolted out from the bathroom as though he had been stung or something. Dean raised an eyebrow and shook his head. He would never understand a werewolf obviously…

He tidied the bathroom and went back into the room. He found Sam in Dean’s bed.

“You must be kidding me!”

Sam gave him a puzzled look and pulled the comforter up to his chin.

“Sam, you…”

“Please, let me stay.”

“You’ll freak out in the morning, Sam,” Dean tried to get some sense into his stubborn brother. “Besides, you’re not five anymore.”

“I won’t freak out and I… I don’t have nightmares when I can feel you.” It sounded sincere.

“You have nightmares? What about?”

Sam shrugged. “About losing you. I know it’s happening and I’m afraid I can’t stop it.”

Dean ran his hand over his face and hair. He didn’t feel like having this type of conversation in the middle of the night. He lay down beside Sam and gazed at the ceiling. He could feel Sam’s eyes on him.

“Sleep, Sammy,” he said quietly, and immediately he could feel a long arm being wrapped around him. Sam snuggled close, burying his nose in Dean’s neck. His breaths tickled Dean, but the big brother didn’t say anything.

“I love you,” Dean could hear the words whispered right into his ear, quiet, gentle, and full of emotion. He shut his eyes tight, trying hard to stop thinking about Sam’s previous words, but finding out it was impossible. His thoughts were returning to the undeniable truth hidden within them. Sam was right, they were becoming strangers and they both were afraid of it, but none of them knew how to stop it.

The regularity of Sam’s breathing told him that his werewolf brother was already asleep. Dean allowed himself to put his hand over Sam’s and shift a bit closer to him.

“I love you too,” he whispered into the dark and tried to get some sleep, already dreading Sam’s morning freak-out.

*

It was still dark when Dean woke up. He didn’t know who to blame for that, whether Sam being too warm pressed tight against Dean and drooling over his shoulder or just the fact that Dean couldn’t sleep well that night, worrying about the morning. He turned to Sam slowly as much as Sam’s arm folded around his brother allowed him and rubbed it gently.

“Sam. Sammy. Wake up,” he whispered.

Sam inhaled and pressed closer. “Mmmmm…” he gurgled.

“Wake up, Sam,” Dean demanded, patting Sam’s arm. “Time to go to your own bed.”

Sam hid his face in Dean’s neck and almost rolled on top of his brother. “Five more minutes,” he tried to negotiate.

“No. Go back to your bed.”

Sam raised his head slowly and looked into Dean’s eyes sleepily, their faces just inches apart from each other. “Please?”

“No.”

Sam sighed and this time he really was atop. Dean was pinned to the bed by the weight of his overgrown brother and he could hardly move.

“Stubborn,” Sam pouted, resting his forehead against Dean’s shoulder.

“Look who’s speaking,” Dean grunted.

Sam lifted his head again and smiled. “Runs in the family,” he said before his lips touched Dean’s in a chaste kiss as light as a feather. But it was still a kiss. On the mouth. From Dean’s brother. And Dean was totally taken aback by it. _What the…?_

Sam rolled off of Dean and sat up. He yawned and crossed the three feet to the other bed, tripping over his own feet and falling right into the soft sheets. He didn’t move anymore.

Dean rose on his elbows staring at his stupid brother. “Sam? You okay?”

No response, just Sam pulled a comforter over his shoulders and huffed into the pillow.

Dean guessed he was asleep. And, of course, he was right.

*

Sam was woken up by his chest stinging unpleasantly. He was lying on his belly with his face buried into the pillow. It was pretty amazing how he could breathe like that. He rolled on his left side and winced.

“Ouch…” he hissed and sat up. There was a white bandage wound around his thigh and down his left arm. He reached for the hem of his T-shirt and rolled it up, revealing the white bandage underneath. He put his hand flat over the bandage and glanced at his brother still sound asleep on the other bed. Of course, Dean must have treated the injuries… but why had that been needed? Sam couldn’t remember a thing from the night, just a blunt pain in his chest he knew hadn’t been caused by the injury.

He stood up and walked slowly into the bathroom. The first thing he noticed was a faint smell of blood. And really, he found a dirty towel. Sam sniffed to it. Thank God it was his own blood and not Dean’s. Or anyone else’s.

He inhaled the smell in the bathroom again, but it didn’t tell him anything else. Sam’s look trailed to the shower cubicle and he remembered worry. Couldn’t say where it came from, though. 

He returned into the room. He watched his brother for a while, trying to make sure Dean was perfectly okay, but that biting feeling of worry was still there. He needed to know what happened. He came up to Dean’s bed and put his hand lightly on his brother’s shoulder.

“Dean,” he said and shook with him a little.

Dean opened his eyes and squinted at Sam. “What? Sammy? What’s up? Hungry again?”

“Hungry?” Sam felt chill crawling up his spine. What did he do?

Dean obviously noticed his horror. He sat up abruptly and looked at his brother. “Sam?”

“What happened, Dean? What happened at night?” Sam asked, touching his chest unconsciously. It stung like hell. The wounds must have been deep.

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed. “Nothing happened. Nothing you should be worried about.”

It didn’t help.

“Look, Sam. You woke me up in the middle of the night, saying you were hungry, so I took you out. You killed a bear and got a few souvenirs yourself. Good thing the beast couldn’t kill you. I would have to summon your spirit, then, to kick your ass.”

“A bear?”

“Yeah, a bear. Grizzly.”

Sam sat down on his own bed, trying to process what he had just heard. He had been worried, he could remembered that one thing clearly.

“Was it after you? Did it hurt you?”

“No. I didn’t see it. I know only what you told me.”

Sam gave Dean a scrutinizing look. “How do you know I wasn’t lying?” he asked after a while.

Dean raised his eyes to his brother’s face and a small, amused smile played on his lips for a second. Sam felt ashamed right away. Lies, of course…

“Your wounds?” Dean offered and stood up, heading for the bathroom.

“Dean!”

“Hm?” Dean stopped in the doorway and looked at Sam quizzically.

“You… you aren’t hurt, are you?”

Dean smirked. “I’m great, Sammy, no worries.” He closed the door and Sam wondered whether it was just his imagination or the words really sounded so hollow.

*

They moved to another town to another motel. Sam could smell a bad omen in the air, but he couldn’t place it yet. He mentioned that to Dean, but his brother only said “Great, that means a job, right?”

“I guess it does,” Sam said slowly and didn’t let Dean into the room before he made sure there was nothing wrong about the place. Dean rolled his eyes and said a few sarcastic remarks, but let Sam to check the room and only then he stepped in.

They checked the local press for anything that could tell them what was wrong with the town and found out that a few people killed their family members before they got missing. The brothers checked the place of the last victim. Police secured the place, but pretending they were FBI agents always opened the door for them.

“Sounds like demon’s possession to me,” Dean said as he crouched next to a big blood stain on a carpet.

“A demon was definitely here. I can smell sulfur everywhere,” Sam replied, trying not to take a deep breath. It was driving him wild. His mouth watered and his thoughts were fixed on the memory of the taste of demon blood. He licked his lips, trying to concentrate. “Let’s get out of here,” he said and moved to the door.

“Yeah, there’s nothing more we can do here now,” Dean agreed and followed Sam out.

Only outside Sam allowed himself to breathe freely.

“What’s up?” sounded Dean’s voice next to him.

“What? Nothing,” Sam said quickly. “Why?”

“You look kind of… unfocused,” Dean said and shrugged.

“No, it’s just… you know… all the smells.”

“Yeah, right,” Dean replied, but didn’t sound convinced. _Damn!_

The rest of the day they spent doing research, Dean in local bars and Sam in their motel room on the computer. Dean returned after a few hours, bringing news about the possessed persons and their victims.

“Seems we have more demons here,” Dean finished his talk.

Sam gulped. More demons meant more trouble… more restrain.

“Hey, you okay? You look pale.”

Sam didn’t manage to look at Dean. The hunger was there, squeezing his insides, urging him to run out and hunt a demon… to feed on him. “I’m okay. It’s just the injuries. They sting,” he lied.

“But you’ll be okay, right?” Dean asked, and Sam could distinguish worry in his voice.

“Yeah, it’ll just take a bit longer. I guess the wounds were pretty deep.”

Dean huffed. “You can bet,” he muttered. “Hey, you hungry?”

Sam winced. “What? No. Um… What?”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “I meant to go out to eat something. No grizzlies.”

“Oh, right… Sure. Let’s go,” Sam gave Dean a nervous smile and he reached for his jacket… when he froze. He remembered that horror too clearly, it was carved into his flesh, the fear of Hell. “Dean!” he yelled, but it was already too late. The door of their room swung open and Sam’s eyes widened when he saw the gigantic creature, the stripes of rotting flesh and fiery eyes, the sharp, long fangs and strong jaw, the promise of torture and suffering beyond human imagination. Hell itself came for him.

Sam’s breath hitched and he backed to a wall as the hellhound stepped into the room, coming right to him.

“Sam! Where is it?” Dean’s voice came to him through the veil of terror.

“There,” he squeaked and pointed at the monster.

The expected shot never echoed. The strong smell of sulfur burned Sam’s nose as three demons stormed in and knocked his brother out.

“DEAN!!!”

Sam lunged forward to his duffel where his sawed-off was hidden, but the hellhound crossed his way, growling menacingly. The demons smirked and while two supported Dean’s weight, taking him with them, the third one, possessing the body of a young girl, smiled sweetly at Sam.

“We just borrow your brother for a while,” the demon said. “See you later, Sammy.”

Anger and desperation overshadowed the fear for a moment. “You son of a bitch! Bring him back!” He wanted to get to a gun – any gun, that didn’t matter to him right now – but the hellhound was on him and a sharp pain in his arm – the same arm that the grizzly had marked with its claws – made him scream. Hell caressed Sam with the gentleness of a tormentor and he blacked out.

*

It was already dark when he woke up. The hellhound was gone, but Hell was still running through Sam’s veins. His heart was pumping with terror, but instead of clouding Sam’s mind it kept it crystal-clear. He remembered everything. The sons of bitches took Dean, _Sam’s Dean_ , only God knew where. Sam smirked and took a deep breath. The track was still fresh.

He loaded his sawed-off with rock salt shells and stuffed the pockets of his jacket with the rest of them. Ruby’s knife found its place in one of the inner pockets. Sam was prepared to get his brother back.

He stepped out from the room with cold-blooded determination to rip in shreds everyone who tried to lay their dirty fingers on Dean. Hell in his veins was a fuel for his fury. It was pulling out the darkness inside him, feeding his cruelty and longing for blood… for revenge.

The smell of sulfur was showing him the right direction and Sam was heading right for the demon lair. He would kill them all. He would destroy their hideout, feed on their blood, tear them into pieces. He was a hunter and he was on a hunt. Dean was his reward.

The smell led him to an old warehouse. Sam killed the demon patrolling outside with Ruby’s knife. The guy was too cocky to think he could compete with the furious werewolf, who came to take back what was stolen from him.

He took of his boots – the sound of his footsteps was too loud for his keen ears and he needed to be as silent as possible. He slid into the warehouse and crouched, proceeding carefully forward with his back facing the wall. Hidden by the piles of old junk, he was out of sight, but he could see and hear the demons. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one whose senses were overly keen. The hellhound was there as well and he _knew_ Sam was there. Surprisingly, Sam welcomed that. He wanted to gank the hellhound as well. The hell in his blood called for revenge on the creature for the bite, for the pain, for having kept him back when his brother had needed him. He pushed the horror back and let the hatred flood his being. He’ll make them all suffer. He’ll show them the hell on Earth.

He was coming closer to the circle of the demons. In the center of it, a chair was placed with Dean sitting in it and bound to it. Sam recognized the demon talking to Dean; it was Crowley, and his hellhound was watching Sam. If the hellhound knew Sam was there, then Crowley knew it, too.

“… I told you forget it. I’m not sacrificing Sam,” Dean said heatedly.

“And I told you let’s ask Sam when he comes,” Crowley said with a smirk and glanced at the hellhound.

Dean sniggered. “Do you really think he’ll come? He shitted his pants the last time he encountered your pet.”

 _Oh, what a trust, Dean,_ Sam thought bitterly.

“I would have more trust into your brother, Dean. He may be changing, but some things never change, right?” An amused smile settled on Crowley’s lips. “Okay, Sam! Show time!”

Dean winced and scanned the surroundings. Sam came out from behind a pile of junk. The hellhound growled darkly and Sam returned the growl, aiming the sawed-off at the beast.

Crowley turned to Dean with a triumphant smile. “See? Little brother came for your rescue. How unexpected!”

“Let him go,” Sam said slowly.

“Of course, we’ll let Dean go. I just want to have a little chat with you,” Crowley said and that smug smile didn’t leave his lips.

“Let Dean go,” Sam repeated. The hellhound growled again while the other demons, settled in bodies of two guys and the girl that came for Dean, moved towards him, trying to trap him in their circle. Sam stepped back, the finger on the trigger. “Call them off and let Dean go.”

“Your brother is stubborn,” Crowley said to Dean.

Dean huffed. “You’ve no idea…” he muttered and looked at Sam. “Get out of here, Sam!” he shouted, but Sam ignored him.

“Last chance. Let. Dean. Go,” Sam repeated, and the demons around him looked at Crowley, waiting for his order. Sam could see how they craved for killing him as much as he craved for killing them.

“Unbind him,” Crowley ordered the girl, and she obeyed with the utmost displeasure. She obviously hoped for some blood to be spilt. Sam watched her, but he was also careful about the rest of the demons and the hellhound still ready to jump him. 

“Will you listen now?” Crowley asked after the bounds slid from Dean’s wrists.

“I didn’t come to talk,” Sam said coldly. “I came to kill.”

The first shot echoed and one of the demons screamed with pain. The rest lunged toward him, but the hellhound was the quickest. The familiar terror took over Sam as the beast knocked him down, and he forgot about the sawed-off he was clutching in his hand.

“Don’t kill them!” Crowley cried, and the demons retreated, leaving the job to the hellhound. Sam could hear the rush of adrenaline in his veins. He was not going to die, not here, not now, and definitely not when he was the one who came here to do the killing. Besides, Dean was here and Sam couldn’t allow those filthy creatures to lay their fingers on his brother. Dean belonged to Sam and only Sam was allowed to touch him.

He felt the hellhound’s fangs dive into his flesh again, he screamed (or howled?) and writhed under the beast, his clothes surrendering to the claws and fangs of the monster. Suddenly the huge paws weren’t pinning him to the ground anymore, so Sam jumped up to his four feet, shuddering all over, but ready to fight. The mouth of the hellhound was red with his blood and the beast was _smirking_. Sam growled and took a fighting position. The hellhound snarled back and attacked.

Sam had one advantage to the huge creature of Hell. He was smaller and swifter and when the hellhound pounced on him instead of lunging forward, he jumped aside and ran past the hellhound right to where Dean was fighting one of the demons.

_Stupid, nasty creatures!_

He needed just one more step to jump the son of a bitch and bite off his head when the power of the former Lord of Hell flung him to the other side of the warehouse. _Freaking bastard!_ Sam jumped up on his feet just in time to dodge a new attack of the hellhound. He understood pretty fast that while the hellhound was supposed to occupy him, the demons wanted to pacify Dean. It seemed that the only way to Dean led through the mutt of Hell. Sam breathed out. Okay, he… could do this, right? Hell couldn’t stop them to be together so far, so why should it now?

Sam lifted his head high, taking a deep breath. Then he lowered it again, plastering his ears to the skull and growling darkly. The hellhound attacked…

*

Dean had enough problems with three demons going after him and had no time to check whether his fluffy brother was okay or the hellhound was digging its fangs into Sam’s fur coat. It was quite a precarious situation. He knew Crowley didn’t want the two of them dead… At least not now. But it didn’t mean he would mind a few less or more serious injuries.

The rock salt slowed the demons down, but it didn’t stop them. It only made them angrier and craving revenge. Dean was sure Sam had brought Ruby’s knife with him. The question was where the damn thing disappeared. He looked around, careful about the demons and slowly backing to the door on the opposite side of the warehouse. The knife was surely hidden somewhere under the pile of shreds from Sam’s clothes. Jeans or jacket, he guessed. He allowed himself a peek at Sam standing in a corner and growling at the invisible opponent. Apparently, it wasn’t invisible for Sam; Dean should ask him what the creature looked like after this was over.

He felt a sharp pain in his shoulder and the sawed-off fell out from his hands. He dodged the next blow just in time, but there was another demon waiting for him. This entire desperate attempt to get out of there was going south…

*

Sam snarled and lunged forward against his overgrown opponent. There was no way he could win the body-to-body battle; that was why he had to come up with a plan. And he did. He remembered to have heard about the fighting style of collies: they kept distance and struck in multiple quick attacks, biting and running away. Sam decided to follow their example.

He charged at the hellhound’s hind legs, his fangs sinking deep into the rotting flesh leaving a disgusting, moldy taste in his mouth. The hellhound howled, but until it turned around, Sam ran away swiftly and returned in a new attack from another direction. His priority was not to get caught while striking was in the second place on the list.

The hellhound’s legs were bleeding, but the creature was still fast and dangerous. Sam decided for a more daring attack. He charged forward, but instead of biting the beast’s legs (as the hellhound already expected him to do), he jumped on the critter’s back. His teeth sank into the hellhound’s neck. The hellhound squealed and shook its head, trying to get rid of the attacker. Sam was holding tight, and then in one strong pull he ripped a piece of flesh. After that he more like fell on the ground than jumped away. The hellhound howled with pain and fury, its fiery eyes piercing Sam through.

 _Oh, shit…_ he thought as he spat out the disgusting steak. The adrenaline in his veins and the fire of Hell inflicted into his blood through the hellhound’s bite didn’t allow the fear to take control over him. Sam was scared, but the fear helped him to reach deep into the darkest corners of his soul for the cruel determination to cause as much damage as he could, no matter whether he was going to win or lose. Well, loss wasn’t an option as long as Dean was in danger. Sam aimed for victory.

*

Dean managed to get to the sawed-off again, but he was out of the shells with the rock salt soon. Even though there were plenty of them scattered around, bending down for them and loading was an extremely dangerous action right now. Dean rather used the gun to give solid blows. It didn’t help much.

A terrible squeal of the hellhound made him and the demons freeze on the spot for a moment and move their attention to the fighting canines. Dean could see nothing, just the werewolf spitting something invisible on the floor, but the demons looked appalled and it was enough for Dean to feel proud of his brother. If he was able to bring that expression on the demons’ faces (even Crowley’s as he noticed with a warm feeling of satisfaction), he surely did a good job.

Barely Sam’s paws touched the floor, he ran away from the hellhound, making a big circle around the beast and striking from a different direction. The hellhound howled again and Sam jumped away with a smug expression as far as Dean could tell. He heard Crowley curse aloud. Sam was gone again as though he knew the demon was after him now. The damage he caused must have been pretty serious.

“What are you waiting for? Get him!” Crowley yelled at the demons, and they started a new attack. Dean needed to find the knife fast.

Crowley seemed to be nursing his pet while Sam was hiding somewhere behind the piles of old stuff. Dean didn’t have time to look around and find out where Sam was and whether he was hurt. He grabbed a few rock salt shells from the floor, loading the sawed-off quickly, but he was still too slow for the demons. They were pissed and they were obviously determined to give him a nice red and purple make-up if not beating him right into unconsciousness. Dean blocked the first blow, but there was no way to dodge the other. Three demons on one human was still a bit unfair proportion of strengths.

He was already prepared to take the blow, but it never came. Instead, there was a high-pitched scream of the motherfucker as the hilt of Ruby’s knife was (as he guessed) sticking out from his back. Sam, all human now with the wounds after the grizzly attack open anew, was standing behind the demon with a cruel smile on his lips.

“Mine,” he snarled into the ear of the dying demon while the two others were staring at him dumbstruck. The guy recovered first from the shock and attacked while the girl backed. Sam took the blow and landed on the floor with the demon atop. A loud, gurgling noise echoed and Sam tossed the demon away, his eyes wide and body tense. Something wasn’t right about him.

The guy’s throat was cut and hot blood was gushing out in a red stream. Sam took a deep breath and licked his lips.

Dean stared at him as he realized the terrible truth about Sam’s hunger. He forgot about the demon girl who was afraid to come into the reach of Ruby’s knife. Sam got on his knees and with a dreamy expression he reached out and dirtied his hand with the demon’s blood. He gave a longing sigh, lifting the hand to his mouth…

Dean couldn’t allow Sam’s old addiction to take over him, couldn’t let Sam to toss away the years he had been clean. Besides, he was afraid even to think about a werewolf high on demon blood, how terrifying it could be…

He dropped the knife and reached into the pocket of his jacket. His fingers found the silver chain with the pendant in the shape of letter D. He put it there before to prevent Sam to take it and also to have something in case he needed to pacify the werewolf without shooting at him. He jumped to his brother and before Sam could taste the blood, Dean put the chain around his neck. Sam screamed with pain as soon as the silver touched his skin and Dean hated himself to the bottom of his heart for having to do this to his brother. _I’m sorry, Sammy._

He clamped the both ends of the chain together and backed off. Sam was trying to tear the chain off, only burning his hands. He was whining like an injured animal and crying like a child, calling Dean’s name. Calling for help the very person who caused him this pain. _I’m so sorry, Sam…_ It was so pathetic… and heartbreaking… Dean turned away and something hard collided with his face. He didn’t know about himself anymore.

*

“Dean!”

Despite the fire burning his body alive, Sam registered what the filthy demon slut did to Dean, saw how she sent him to the floor with one well-aimed blow in the face. The furious grimace of hers told Sam that she couldn’t be satisfied with just knocking Dean out, but she wanted to see his blood. _A lot of his blood_.

Sam growled and threw himself over his brother’s unconscious body, blanketing him totally and taking the hard kick aimed for Dean’s liver just in time. He groaned as the tip of her boot met his ribs in a firework of pain. A hard punch in the head followed and Sam took it bravely.

The demon was raging now. She grabbed the chain, pulling Sam up and away from Dean. Sam squealed, fighting back weakly. The strength was leaving him quickly and the only thing he could do was to let her beat crap out of him. While she was occupied with him, she wasn’t hurting Dean. That was enough.

He spotted Ruby’s knife lying on the floor and it was even within his reach, but there was a hand taking it and Sam lost all his hopes. Though, he wasn’t willing to give up. He was determined to fight to the last breath.

“That’s enough,” a cold voice said, and the demon girl tossed Sam on the ground angrily. He looked at the one who spoke, recognizing Crowley. He promised himself to kill the son of a bitch as soon as he gained some strength again. He reached out where he could smell Dean and took his brother’s hand. No one was taking Dean away from him!

“How touchy,” he heard the mocking words and then cold laughter. He swallowed and shifted closer to Dean, trying to look as dangerous as he could in his momentary miserable state, but he must have looked really ridiculous, because the motherfucker laughed again. “Take the older brother, we take care of the werewolf,” he heard the order, and someone (the slut as he guessed) pulled Dean out of his reach. He growled, but it came out weak.

“Dean,” he groaned before he felt the breath of Hell on the nape of his neck. So it was true, the hellhound really came for him…

The hell in his blood didn’t rush through his veins this time. The darkness was pushed away by the purifying power of silver. It was burning holes into Sam’s soul just like Lucifer when he wanted to relief his rage on someone. It had always been Sam, the reason of the archangel’s imprisonment, and supported by Michael’s feeling of righteousness and his duty to punish his little brother, Sam took it from both. Adam hadn’t had it much better and Sam was sure he was suffering much more now when he had been left alone in the Cage. Adam didn’t deserve that…

Sam didn’t know why he was thinking about Adam right now and whether it was just a dream or his fucked-up mind played some nasty games with him, but the memories of Hell tortured him much more effectively than any piece of silver could.

A familiar smell – the most beautiful of all smells in the whole world – reached his nose again. It made him to push the memories of Hell back and he concentrated only on that smell of home and safety. Its source was close, he just needed to reach out…

Sam curled up against a warm, firm body, giving up on his sanity. He could die like this and he would never mind.

*

Dean woke up with a headache and the sharp neon light shining above his head was making it even less bearable. Besides, there was something warm and heavy pressed against his side and there was no escape from that weight since there was just a cold wall on the other side.

“Finally awake?” The cadence of the voice was nothing from a normal speech, but it still felt like someone was screaming right into Dean’s ear. He forced his eyes to open just to find out that the heaviness pressing him to the wall was his own brother, snuggled to Dean as though he was looking for protection, his nakedness hidden under a stinky blanket. He was blissfully unconscious and Dean felt like crying when he saw the burns around Sam’s neck. How could he do that to his little brother? And then he realized that the silver chain was gone and he focused his eyes at the one who had spoken to him.

“You’re with me, great,” sounded sarcastically. Dean groaned and wriggled a bit, trying to push Sam away gently so that he could raise himself into a sitting position. It wasn’t very effective scowling at the demon while lying helplessly on the floor with an unconscious werewolf pinning him to a wall. Well, it wasn’t effective even when he was finally sitting, but he didn’t feel so stupid at least.

“Crowley,” he growled through clenched teeth. He noticed the silver chain in the demon’s hands and anger rose within him. “Give it back.”

“What? This?” Crowley lifted the hand in which he was holding the chain. The silver D glistened in the artificial light. “D stands for Dean, I guess. Your love almost killed your little bro. We couldn’t let him die, right?” He smiled wryly and threw the chain to Dean. “That was wise, Dean, just imagine what he could do if he doped himself with demon blood. He’s already balancing on the verge of humanity.” The voice was cold and the words like razors.

Dean glared. “Don’t you dare talking about him like this,” he warned.

“Dean, Dean, Dean… Are you really so blind or you just don’t want to see the truth? It’s not your brother anymore. Well, technically he is, but the reality is a bit different. Just look at him. He’s curled up against your side like a lost pup. He’s lost, Dean. Admit it finally.” Crowley’s voice became sharper and more urgent. “You can’t save him, there’s no way out of it. His hunger is growing and he’s turning into a monster and one day you’ll have to waste him anyway. So do him a favor. Let him die now while he still remembers who he is and allow him to rid this world of the greater evil than he is himself.”

Dean shook his head slowly, looking daggers at Crowley. “Touch Sam and you’ll have something to do with me,” he threatened.

“No, Dean, you don’t understand. I won’t touch him. At least not until he’s fit enough to memorize the spell to open the gate to Purgatory. Until then,” Crowley made a dramatic pause and gave Dean a sweet smile, “take care of your scared pet. The broken ribs caused inner bleeding, so I wouldn’t use silver on him any time soon.”

Dean pursed his lips in a silent protest. Crowley was right about one thing: the silver slowed down the healing process, so if Sam had suffered some serious injuries, it could have killed him. He put his arm around Sam’s shoulders protectively and glared at Crowley, who just smirked and left them alone.

Dean could finally look around. They were shut in a small room with nothing more than one narrow bed and a small table. Dean didn’t get why they were lying on the floor, but he guessed the demons didn’t care much about their comfort. He could try to get Sam on the bed at least, but the bitch was being stubborn even he was unconscious. His fingers were tangled in Dean’s shirt and he didn’t seem to be willing to let go at all. It took Dean some time to free the shirt from Sam’s grip and he swung his brother’s arm around his neck, supporting his weight and lifting him from the cold floor. The blanket slid from Sam’s body, revealing a big dark bruise and the injuries from the fight with the hellhound. They weren’t bleeding, but they were still open and looking rather serious.

“Sammy, what did they do to you?” he said quietly, and put his brother on the bare mattress. He covered him with the blanket again. His fingers ran into Sam’s hair and removed the untidy strands from his face. “You’ll be fine, I promise.” 

He sat down on the bed and watched Sam. He would have given anything just to keep him safe. He was failing his task every freaking moment and Sam was paying dearly for Dean’s incapability. “I’m sorry, Sammy…”

It could be just a few minutes as well as an hour (or maybe even more) when the door of their cell opened again and the stinky demon girl tossed their duffels in.

“Get him dressed,” she snarled and slammed the door shut.

Dean checked the contents of the bags. The demons left them everything except the guns and the rosary of course. Dean cursed, but yeah, what else could he expect? He returned to his place by Sam’s side, guarding his brother until he woke up.

*

A few more hours had passed as Dean guessed during which the demon girl appeared again to bring them some water and then there was no sign of her or Crowley anymore. Dean was sure the hellhound was patrolling outside, he could hear his dark growl from time to time and he hoped that Sam caused the son of a bitch as serious injuries as he got himself. Dean checked on Sam’s wounds every now and then and luckily, they were healing, but they still looked pretty bad. Dean wasn’t sure whether he should feel relieved that Sam was what he was because being a human, such wounds would have killed him for sure. Nonetheless, the fact was that if Sam hadn’t turned into this, he wouldn’t have been lying here half-dead. _Maybe he would’ve been lying half-dead somewhere else,_ a tiny voice in Dean’s head said. Dean sighed. This was their lives. Pretty shitty if you asked him.

Sam moved finally and groaned. He must have been in pain and according to what Crowley had said the healing would take quite some time.

“Sammy,” he addressed his brother in a low voice.

Sam looked at him and his eyes widened momentarily. It was just a second, but Dean could see his own fear in the hazel-green rimmed with innocent blue. He forced himself into a smile.

“How are you feeling?”

Sam moved a bit and hissed with pain. He wanted to say something, but he ended up coughing. Dean brought him some water in a metallic cup. He helped Sam to sit up, supporting him, and handed him the cup. Sam wanted to drink the water in big gulps, but Dean didn’t allow that.

“Easy, Sammy. There’s nowhere to hurry.” Unfortunately.

He made Sam sip and after the water was gone, Sam leaned against Dean completely, resting his head on his big brother’s shoulder. It took Dean less than three seconds to realize that Sam fell asleep. 

*

Dean thought that he must have dozed off because he was woken up by some movement right beside him and the feeling of loss. He heard a low groan and then a quiet curse before he opened his eyes and found out that his brother was in a sitting position beside him with his back pressed against the wall as though he tried to lengthen the minute distance between them. As long as there were no windows in the room, Dean could only suppose that he was dealing with the day Sam right now.

“What are you doing, Sammy?” he asked, squinting at the bitch.

“Sorry, didn’t want to wake you up,” sounded Sam’s guilty reply.

“But you did,” Dean said matter-of-factly and yawned, stretching his stiff body which was too big for the narrow bed with one more overgrown guy on it who was trying to be as small as possible at the moment. Futile effort. Dean gave him a half-witted smile. He got an impression that Sam relaxed a little. His eyes seemed less scared and he didn’t try to pull away anymore.

“Lie down, Sammy, and rest,” Dean said, turning his back to Sam but not leaving the bed. If the bitch wanted to freak out, he had enough space for that. He’d have to put up with the almost none proximity between them. Hell, they used to be like this before Sam left for Stanford! They didn’t mind sharing bed if there was no other option and this was exactly such a situation, so why not to share again? Like the old times when they didn’t need to pretend how much of grown-up men they were. They were brothers; they knew each other better than anyone else had ever known them (including Dad or Bobby) so such a little thing like sleeping in one bed when the floor seemed less then appealing should not have been such a problem. Even though it had never been such a small bed… And hey! Didn’t they already sleep pressed against each other just lately? _B_ _ut that was with the night Sam,_ Dean sighed.

“Dean…” Sam started hesitantly, and Dean rolled his eyes. Whatever Sam wanted to say, he was sure it was going to be something stupid and inadequate to the current situation.

“Shut up, I don’t wanna hear anything from you right now. Lie down and heal, you’re still not okay. And so that you know, I’m tired and not leaving the bed, so deal with it.” He huffed into the mattress. He heard a soft rustle of the blanket and then Sam’s long legs were touching Dean’s accidentally as his brother gave up and stretched out next to him.

“Dean…”

“Sam.” It was a warning.

“… I remember everything since the demons kidnapped you.” Sam’s voice trailed off, leaving a wide gap of tense silence hanging above them.

Dean turned slowly to his brother, their faces so damn close. Hmpf, at least Sam couldn’t run away from this as usual…

“You remember,” he repeated, waiting for Sam to add some more information.

“… yeah,” came sheepishly. “Even the end. What you did. I… thank you.”

Dean swallowed sharp words that wanted to come out. “How long have you known about your hunger for demon blood?” he asked instead, keeping his voice even, although he was already on the verge of kicking Sam’s ass.

“A while,” Sam said in an apologetic voice.

Dean closed his eyes and counted to three. “You’ve known it for _a while_ and you’ve never considered it to be important enough to tell me,” he said coldly.

“I didn’t want you to be worried,” Sam replied in a low voice.

“I’m worried now.” He looked right into Sam’s eyes. “What the hell did you think? That you’d feed and I’d never find out?” Sam shook his head, but stayed quiet. “Dammit, Sam, has it ever occurred to you that it is not your hunger for demon blood that makes me see red? It’s your stupid attitude. Everything you do or say just lies, lies, and even more lies. How many times did hiding the truth from me help you? It always backfired. Always.” He exhaled.

“I’m sorry,” Sam used the pause.

“I know you are. But it won’t stop you to do it again, will it? I’m tired, man. I can’t put up with this crap anymore.”  

The hurt in Sam’s puppy dog eyes told him how it sounded. Dean cursed inwardly. His brother wanted to turn away from him, but Dean put his hand on Sam’s cheek, preventing him from doing that.

“I have no one anymore but you, Sam, and I’m not prepared to lose you. So stop lying to me finally. We’re in this together, we’ve always been.”

Sam swallowed and looked at his brother. There was more of blue in his eyes than hazel. He gave a small nod.

Dean gave a sigh of relief. “Good.” He pulled his hand back and rolled on his back himself. That was for the chick flick moment… He stared at the ceiling. Sam didn’t dare to move, maybe didn’t dare even to breathe.

Dean sighed and sat up. “Water?” He half-expected his brother to refuse, but Sam gave a small nod. Dean filled the cup with water and handed it to Sam.

“Thanks.” It was barely audible, but Dean still could hear a good amount of gratitude in that one simple word.

“I’m done, Sammy,” he said as he sat down on the bed again. Sam was curled up in a ball on the other side, cradling the cup in his big paws. Dean could feel his eyes on himself, but he couldn’t look at him. “I mean… what happened to us? We used to be a team, Winchesters against the Evil in the World… and now? Winchesters against the Evil in the World AND each other. The only time when I can expect sincerity from you is night. I don’t know anymore which Sam is the true one. The one that comes to me at night to tell me he’s hungry and expects me to find some solution, or the one who retreats within himself the moment the daylight touches him? I don’t know anymore where I stand in your list of priorities or whether I’m still there…”

He looked at his hands folded in his lap. He felt like breaking something (maybe Sam’s nose?). Probably the physical pain would help him to forget about the other, deeper and sharper one.

He heard the rustle of the blanket and registered the motion beside him. Sam’s hand rested on his brother’s joined ones. Dean looked at them.

“You’re number one,” Sam said quietly as if he was afraid that his words could upset Dean, but actually Dean couldn’t bring himself to shove his brother away, even though he wanted to. He lifted his head and looked at Sam, who was so close to him.

“How can I know you’re not lying to me again?” he asked.

“I would die for you any second,” Sam whispered, his voice sounding broken and hurt, and his hand was gone.

Dean shivered and glared at Sam. “I don’t want you to die for me, you shithead. I want you to live and be honest with me finally.” His voice faltered and he stood up and crossed the small cell in order to get as far as he could from his brother so that he didn’t punch him accidentally.

*

Sam watched his brother from the safety of the bed. He did get Dean, he knew very well why his brother was so pissed. He knew that he deserved that, he deserved Dean to scold him like a little brat. What stayed a secret for him was the remark about his sincerity at night. He didn’t remember a thing of the stuff he had done, he was sure it had been nothing nice, but obviously it pleased Dean in some way. Sam really regretted that those times stayed out of his waking memory.

Nevertheless, something changed. He could feel it deep inside. The strong urge he couldn’t call a reason, but it had nothing to do with his feelings either. It felt like an ancient truth telling him what was right and what he was supposed to do. _If Dean is in trouble, help him. If he is unable to fight back, protect him. If he’s pissed, run or at least try to look as invisible as possible. If Dean is sad, give him comfort._

_What if he is pissed AND sad?_

_B_ _e there for him._

Sam slid from the bed and silently like a hunting wolf he neared Dean. His brother obviously didn’t notice him, he was turned away from the bed. He winced when Sam’s long arms wound around him from behind.

Sam was scared to death. He expected Dean to push him away and yell at him, maybe to punch him in the face for such a foolish idea, but he knew that if he hadn’t done this, he would have regretted it later. He waited for Dean’s reaction, but his brother stayed perfectly motionless. With his heart pumping somewhere in his throat, Sam pressed his chest against Dean’s back. Even through a few layers of Dean’s clothes he could feel every muscle in his brother’s body, hard and tense. Sam exhaled, his breath caressing Dean’s neck.

“Sam?” The question was full of aching uncertainty.

Sam tightened his embrace and pressed his face against Dean’s cheek. He put all his regret and sorrow and need and love in that desperate act. He held Dean like that and Dean didn’t try to free himself from this prison.

Sam nuzzled his face, his heart still pounding wildly. Surprisingly, he felt Dean relax against his chest. Sam breathed a sigh of relief and pressed a small kiss on Dean’s temple. He wasn’t sure why he did that. It was stupid and Dean would surely shoot him the moment Sam would release him from his embrace.

That was why he was so surprised when he heard in a quite, shaky voice:

“It’s okay, Sammy. It’s okay.”   

*

If someone could screw up with Dean’s head really effectively, it was definitely Sam. The bitch didn’t even know how much power he had over his big brother. Dean knew he was pathetic, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted Sam back, he wanted his brother to return from whichever path he had taken and left Dean behind… he wanted to feel the closeness. He wanted to know that his little brother still needed him.

And then there were arms wrapped around him and Sam’s warmth bringing peace into Dean’s troubled mind. He thought that maybe he should have pushed Sam away, because if this was the night Sam, and Dean was sure he was, then Dean was just using the situation. Sam wouldn’t remember anything of this anyway, would he? Nevertheless, according to his own words, he did remember the last time he transformed… Maybe there was really something weird going on with Sam (note: define weird).

Sam pressed him closer. Dean closed his eyes and surrendered to his brother’s embrace. Sam’s warm breath was caressing Dean’s cheek and Dean couldn’t else just let him do whatever he wanted. The tiny kiss on the temple reminded him of the smell of Mom’s apple pie and the cradle with a baby and Dad coming back home with his hands dirty with car oil… It felt like coming home after a long, long journey.

He couldn’t be pissed at Sam anymore. He was whispering the words of comfort and felt Sam’s racing heart against his back calming down a little. Sam was nuzzling his cheek, his neck, hugging him close like a child enjoying its first teddy bear. His lips, still wet with the water, were pressed against Dean’s jaw.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I’m sorry for everything I’ve ever done to you.”

The whisper, quiet and soft and full of emotions, cut through Dean’s soul. He shut his eyes tight and bit his lower lip hard. He noticed Sam felt his discomfort.

“Dean?”

“Don’t apologize, Sammy. Don’t you EVER apologize,” Dean said hoarsely. He was already tired of those words coming from Sam’s mouth. He finally freed himself from Sam’s arms. “Get dressed.”

There was silence for a long time during which Dean was completely unable to look at his brother. When he eventually gathered enough courage to be able to raise his eyes from the floor, Sam was already half-dressed. Dean was grateful for that. He didn’t feel like seeing Sam’s naked ass again any time soon.

It was as though Sam felt Dean’s look on him, because he turned to his brother with a question in his eyes. Dean noticed the change in them. Something about Sam was different. The look his brother gave him was none of the night Sam’s – it was too wary, but it was none of the day Sam’s either – it was too affectionate for that. Dean opened his mouth, thinking that he probably should say something, but Sam freed him from this awkward situation by turning away from him in order to finish his dressing up. The black bruise and other injuries disappeared under two layers of clothes.

“How do you feel?” Dean asked and came closer to Sam.

“It hurts like hell, but it’s healing. I’ll be okay soon,” his brother said matter-of-factly.

“Good. Bitch.”

Sam looked at him and a smile spread over his face, perfectly matching Dean’s. “Jerk.”


	5. The Child of Purgatory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter the Winchester boys deal with the Leviathans. As I mentioned before, the way they defeated them is utterly the product of my imagination and was written BEFORE the the last episode of season 7 was on air. Every similarity is a pure COINCIDENCE ^^

They could hardly tell whether it was night or day. In Sam’s case it didn’t even matter. He was tired and the bed looked so appealing… After he assured Dean that he was not going to die and his injuries were healing quite well, he stretched out on the hard mattress. Dean seemed to be skeptical about Sam’s condition, but he could hardly do anything else than sit down on the bed beside Sam and gaze at the opposite wall. Sam suspected him to be waiting for his little brother to fall asleep so that he avoided an awkward moment when he lay down next to Sam. Sam yawned and shifted closer to the wall so that Dean had enough space when he finally gave in and followed his brother’s example.

Sam woke up to the pleasant warmth next to him. Dean’s back was turned to him. It didn’t occur to Sam’s sleepy mind that probably snuggling to his adult brother wasn’t very appropriate, but when he pressed his nose against the nape of Dean’s neck and put his arm around Dean’s waist, he couldn’t feel safer and happier. He breathed in the faint, nice scent and his lips touched lightly the warm skin.

“Sammy.” It should have been a warning, but there was no trace of annoyance or anything like that in Dean’s voice. The tone was gentle and Sam was sure Dean was smiling. He smiled himself and pulled his face away from Dean’s neck, however only a little so that he still could breathe his beautiful scent.

Sam sighed and inhaled, trying to remember the last time he smelled something more wonderful. He came to the conclusion that either there was something wrong with his memory or there was really nothing in the world smelling better than Sam’s big brother. He swallowed and tightened his arm around Dean’s waist. No reaction came which in Dean’s case was a good thing. Sam purred contentedly and that was the last thing he remembered…

*

A loud slam of the door and the smell of sulfur woke him up. Dean was already awake, sitting on the bed at Sam’s feet and glaring at the angry demon girl, who brought them something to eat (burgers from the local fast food restaurant – obviously that was the most comfortable way to feed them). Sam’s stomach gave him a painful squeeze and Sam gazed at the demon hungrily. His mouth watered and he sat up slowly. Dean glanced at him and his eyes softened for a moment before he turned back to the demon. Sam noticed the slight change in his posture: the straightened back and the shoulders that abruptly seemed broader – Dean’s whole body was screaming “back off” at the demon. Sam stayed half-hidden behind his brother and apparently that was Dean’s true intention.

Sam’s attention moved to the demon girl again and the hunger became more torturing. She noticed his stare and smirked in challenge. Sam growled quietly, shifting on the bed in her direction, but Dean’s firm grip on his wrist stopped him. Sam was endlessly thankful for that simple touch that brought him back to reality. He relaxed and sat next to Dean with his thigh touching his brother’s as a reminder of good behavior. Dean didn’t stop holding his wrist though, especially when he noticed Sam’s gaze.

“Get out,” Dean said to the demon, his voice low and dangerous.

The demon smirked again. “Your wish is my command,” she teased, yet she left the room.

Dean let go of Sam’s wrist and turned to his brother, who was hypnotizing the food for change.

“Hungry?” 

“Like a wolf,” Sam blurted, grabbing one of the burgers and unwrapping it hastily. Only when he took the first bite he realized Dean was watching him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Dean said quickly. Maybe too quickly, but Sam decided to think about it later. Now he needed to sate his hunger.

He was almost done with his burger when something occurred to him. He looked at Dean quizzically. “What about you? Aren’t _you_ hungry?” It was rather unusual that Dean didn’t jump for food. Maybe it was because a demon brought it…

“Not really,” Sam’s brother said calmly, and Sam nodded contentedly, totally oblivious to the slightly strangled tone.

“May I have the other one, too?” He was still hungry.

“Help yourself.”

Sam wolfed Dean’s burger in almost no time, nevertheless the great hunger was still there and Sam realized with horror that there was no food in the world that could ease it. He was doomed.

As frustrated as he suddenly felt, he was unable to look at his big brother, who still believed there was hope. Sam wanted to believe that, too, but he was just getting more scared of himself. If there was a cure, they needed to find it _soon_.

He stood up and came up to the door. The hellhound could smell him and it growled right behind the door. Sam _craved_ to provoke it, to make the beast rage. The smell of rotting flesh was driving Sam crazy. He felt the old wrath and the longing for revenge for everything Hell carved into the souls both of his and his brother. He glanced at Dean over his shoulder and he could _see_ what Hell made of him. A broken puppet, a scared dog, a pile of guilt and shame…

Hell. Sam could see it clearly. Could feel it like a cold stream running through his veins, like a burning knife cutting through his heart, like claws tearing him apart. Sam could see the same in Dean’s look. Maybe he’d always seen that, just didn’t know what it was. He remembered what of his brother Hell had given him back. He had never had a chance to retaliate, but now Hell itself was laughing right into his face and he had the power to overcome his fear and start the carnage Hell had never seen. He’d start with the bastard on the other side of the door and continue with the demons there. He’d sate his hunger with their blood and pave the path to the Underworld with their bones. He’d go down and this time he wouldn’t be trapped in some cage with two raging angels. He’d dirty his soul to avenge both Dean and himself. He’d take all the crap of the world. He was already a stinking dump so it didn’t matter as long as Dean’s soul stayed pure. If Sam died and met Alistair in his afterlife, he’d give him the payment for the years of ‘taking care’ of Dean. Sam couldn’t wait to have the motherfucker in his grasp.  

He growled darkly and kicked the door. The hellhound barked. Sam’s mouth curled into a crooked smile.

“You bastard! Come here and take me!” he shouted. The hellhound replied in a new angry bark, promising Sam the worst torture Hell could come up with. Sam laughed malevolently. “I look forward to it, you filthy pile of mud,” he yelled at the hound. “You want me, do you? Come and get me. We’ll settle the score once and for all, you shit of Hell!”

It was a heavy hand on his shoulder that made him shut up. Sam turned around slowly and met Dean’s eyes, wet and tired and pleading… and he recognized the look right away. Those were the eyes of someone whose heart had just been broken.

*

Sam was sitting on the bed, eyeing Dean from under the bangs falling into his face. Dean was leaning against the wall opposite, his arms folded on his chest and his eyes wary. The hellhound was raging behind the door and the smell of sulfur was floating in the air, making Sam’s throat burn with unsatisfied hunger. The darkness was awakening within Sam, digging its claws into Sam’s soul, whispering sweet words about the perverted beauty of slaughter.

Sam wetted his dry lips, glancing at Dean again. Dean unfolded his arms and reached into the pocket of his jeans with one hand. He made sure that the thing he was supposed to have there was still in its place. His eyes were fixed on Sam as though he was expecting his brother to do something out of lines.

“How are you feeling?” Dean asked, trying to sound confident but he failed terribly.

Sam lifted his head a bit to have a better look at his brother. The brief moment when their eyes met was enough for Sam’s restraints to fall apart completely and something dark and malicious came loose. It was desire so great and intense that no feeling Sam had ever experienced in his life could measure with it. He looked at Dean, at his perfect shape, perfect everything… and he knew he couldn’t allow anyone else to have that. It belonged to Sam. Only Sam. And whoever wanted to claim something else was doomed.

He stood up.

“Sammy?”

Sam smiled, convinced that it was a placatory smile, but he kind of suspected that it was cold and wicked. He could see Dean tense. His arms sank along his body, his whole stance talking about readiness for anything that would come from his little brother. Sam smirked. Did Dean really think he had a chance? Sam could take from him what he wanted right now.

And Sam wanted it. Right now.

“I love you, Dean,” he said, and he meant it, even though it sounded malicious.

*

Every muscle in Dean’s body was prepared to fight. When he heard those words insulting everything the two of them were trying to build anew between themselves, he was closer to hating his brother than any time before (including the time when Sam exchanged him for the slut Ruby).

“You want me to buy it?” he spat. This was not his brother talking. This couldn’t be Sam with the fiery look and malice radiating from his every cell. And yet, there was no chance it could be someone else in that tall body of the most precious person in Dean’s world. If this was Sam, then there had to be something more.

Sam glared and growled, and Dean really didn’t want to think of his brother as a beast. It was just… too hard.

“Sam,” he addressed him, and maybe he hoped he could talk some sense back into Sam’s screwed head.

Instead of listening to him, Sam lunged forward. Dean jerked away, prepared to get out of Sam’s reach, but he was disadvantaged here. Not that Sam was inhumanly strong, but he was incredibly fast as well. When Dean managed to dodge, Sam’s hand shot forward immediately and grabbed his big brother who was just about to make another step away from him.

Dean’s back hit a wall hard and he could feel Sam’s hot breath on his face. Sam was staring right into his eyes from such a small distance that Dean could distinguish little dark green dots in his irises. However, his pupils were wide and there was nothing good staring at Dean from their depths.

“I love you,” Sam said again, and this time it sounded angry. “No one can love you more than I. You belong to me and only me. I won’t allow anyone to take you away. You’re mine, you’ve always been.”

Sam tightened his grip on Dean and Dean knew that his skin had no chance to come out of this without bruises. Sam’s hips came in contact with Dean’s and… God! Was Sam hard?

“Sammy,” he tried again, his voice breaking on the name. “Don’t do this.”

“You’re mine. No matter how many filthy sluts dirtied you, you belonged to me then like you do now. I was too scared to tell you because I was sure I would lose you.”

The words sounded confused and they didn’t give any sense to Dean. The only clear thing was that Dean had a good look of the true face of the night Sam. He looked into the face of a horny werewolf and Meg’s remark about kill or fuck started giving sense.

“It’s always been you. It’s always been _about_ you.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean spat and tried to fight Sam off, but the bitch pressed his one arm to Dean’s throat in a threatening gesture. Dean was totally at Sam’s mercy. He had known it could come to this point, he just didn’t want to believe it and Sam… his gentle little brother was just supporting that belief. “If you wanna kill me, then do it right away. If it makes you happy, tear me into pieces and drink my blood. If I’m nothing but meal to you, come on, have a bite!”

His voice was shaking with anger – but not at Sam, Dean was angry with himself that he didn’t see this coming. There had been so many signs talking about Sam’s humanity slipping away. He was bitchy and fidgety when he couldn’t kill and the time between the kills was getting shorter. He was hungry almost constantly and Dean knew by now that it wasn’t food that could ease the hunger. His reactions were more animal-like with every step he made. His movements were more careful and silent and he started depending more on his physical strength than weapons. 

Sam shook his head. “No, I don’t wanna kill you. I love you, Dean, you’re mine and no one will _ever_ touch you again. They won’t put their filthy hands on your pure body, no one will dirty your beautiful soul anymore. I’ll take care of that, I promise.”

Sam’s eyes softened and Dean had no strength within him to fight back. Sam was talking nonsense, that much was obvious, but he seemed to believe his own words like they were the Great Truth of the World. His free hand was wandering over Dean’s firm body until it curled around his waist and pressed him closer. Sam’s hips gave a hard thrust and Sam groaned excitedly.

“You’re mine, Dean. You’re mine. No one… will have you… ever again…” Sam started panting and the words were coming out in interrupted flows. “Mine… I’ll prove it… to you…” He was now thrusting hard and fast, his hand slid to Dean’s ass, holding him tight. There was no way to escape...

Sam leaned to Dean and growled into his ear, unsatisfied. The hand was gone from Dean’s ass and he felt it on his belly suddenly. “So perfect…” Sam panted and the hand was gone again. Dean could hear the sound of a zipper and he knew it wasn’t his. _Crap!_ Sam’s hot length was pressed against his jeans, sliding up and down slowly. Sam growled again and reached for Dean’s hand hanging limp beside Dean’s body.

“Sammy, please,” Dean begged, but his words were not coming to Sam anymore. He pulled the hand away and Sam growled darkly, grabbing it again and curling Dean’s fingers around his own cock. He groaned and attacked Dean’s mouth in a bruising kiss.

Dean didn’t have time to be even shocked. When he felt the scrape of Sam’s teeth on his lips he knew that if he didn’t think of something, there would be two werewolves locked up in this room. His one hand was captured in Sam’s grip, but the other one was unoccupied and free to reach into the jeans pocket to pull out the secret from there. Dean lifted his hand and the familiar silver chain touched the nape of Sam’s neck.

Sam screamed, trying to get away from the thing that caused him pain, and this time Dean didn’t feel guilty for that. He used the moment of Sam’s surprise and jumped away from his reach. Sam looked at him, anger and reproach in his eyes. His junk was still out, hard and leaking, calling for attention.

Sam bared his teeth and growled, making a slow step towards Dean.

“Stay away, Sam. I warn you.”

Sam growled again, more angrily now. He tried to near Dean again, but all he achieved was a collision of his cheek with the silver chain. He crouched, glaring at the chain in Dean’s hand.

Dean smirked. “You don’t like it, do you?”

Sam moved around Dean in a circle, looking for an opening in Dean’s defense. He couldn’t find any. Dean sniggered and stepped closer. Sam crouched even more, ready for an attack.

“Back off,” Dean commanded.

Sam slowly stepped backwards.  

“Good boy.”

Sam growled menacingly.

“Nuh-uh. No growling.” Dean came closer again, the chain ready in his hand. “Sit down on the bed and calm down,” he said authoritatively.

Sam glowered, but the silver chain was an effective persuasive tool. He walked to the bed slowly, his eyes still fixed on Dean.

“Very well. Don’t forget to zip your pants, Sammy,” Dean said mockingly, earning a furious look from Sam.

Sam didn’t turn away from Dean when he reached to his crotch. No, the bitch straightened up and made a show of this. Dean rang with the chain. Sam smirked, but finally got his still hard cock into the pants. He licked his lips lasciviously and sat down on the bed. He leaned against the cold wall behind his back, making the tent in his pants perfectly visible.

Dean should have felt embarrassed probably, but he was already beyond that. He just sighed and looked Sam in the eyes, trying to find there something that would tell him Sam was still sane. Still human. But Sam’s eyes stayed wild and lustful.

“Sam.”

“Dean.” The voice was gruff and totally not Sam-like.

“What the hell came over you?”

Sam shrugged and wriggled on the bed, his hand coming to his crotch.

“Stop it.”

The hand stayed lying motionless on Sam’s thigh.

“Answer the question.”

“There’s nothing to answer.”

“Really?” Dean thought he was going to explode. “You were about to rape me and you have nothing to say?” He was furious. He clenched the chain tighter and had real problems to resist the urge to use it.

Sam stiffened and looked at Dean, the darkness in his eyes fading. “Rape you?” he asked in a panicky voice.

“Yeah, rape me,” Dean repeated starkly. “What the hell, Sam? You pounced on me like I was some bitch in heat. Besides, what was it about all those ‘I love you’s and ‘You’re mine’s? Can you explain _that_ at least?”

Dean knew misery when he saw it. Sam turned pale and looked like he was about to throw up.

“Sam?”

“Dean, I… I didn’t want… I mean… I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I…”

The door of the room creaked and one very smug demon walked in. Dean frowned. Crowley really knew the timing…

*

Sam wished nothing more (or less, depending from which point you looked at it) than to disappear into thin air so that he didn’t need to deal with the guilt and the shame for what he had done. He didn’t know what had fueled it… well, if he were honest, he did. But he didn’t know what the trigger had been. With every heartbeat he felt less human and there were desires driving him to do things he would never have done and say things he would never have said. He remembered every word he had said – and that all was true: He loved Dean more than anyone and he liked to think about the fact that wherever they went, whatever they did and whoever they met they always returned to each other.    

He knew there was no apology for what he had done. Forcing himself on Dean… HELL! If there was a time he truly hated being this… this monster… then it was definitely now. He was full of rage and there was nothing that could relieve it. He was dangerous, he was very well aware of that, and he was afraid he would hurt Dean eventually. That would have been even worse than Dean leaving him.

The door opened and the strong smell of sulfur tickled Sam’s nose. He groaned and looked at Crowley with a hateful expression. He jumped off the bed, ready to attack, when the demon’s power pinned him to a wall.

“One would think you’ve already learned your lesson, Sam,” the demon said and patted his overgrown pet. The hellhound wagged his tail, which looked quite ridiculous for such a creature. Sam growled, looking daggers at Crowley.

“Let him go.” It was Dean’s voice.

“I will. After we talk,” the demon said and turned to Sam again. “How are you feeling, Sam? Hungry, right?”

“Go to hell,” Sam forced through clenched teeth.

“That was an eloquent reply,” Crowley said contentedly.

“Leave him alone, Crowley,” Dean sounded pretty pissed.

Crowley smiled malevolently. “Dean, you could finally understand that Sam is lost for good. There’s nothing that can help him, so… don’t you think that letting him do the last right thing would be… let’s say… noble?”

Sam gaped at the demon. “What?”

“Shut. Up,” Dean snarled.

Crowley turned to Sam, completely ignoring Dean. “There’s something only you can do…”

“I said leave my brother alone!” Dean interrupted the demon and made a step forward, but it didn’t take Crowley more than snapping his fingers and Dean was glued to the wall right next to Sam.

“Now you both will listen,” the demon said menacingly. “Leviathans are trying to take over the world and there is one way to get them back from where they came. Do you really want to waste the chance?”

Dean glared and Sam was sure he would have bared his teeth and growled at the demon if he had been a werewolf, too.

“I told you that your Sammy is changing. There’s just a little time until he completely changes into a bloodthirsty wolf monster that you would HAVE to kill. I’m sure you already noticed that his humanity started being questionable,” Crowley continued.

Sam swallowed and glanced at Dean. Dean’s eyes were fixed on the demon, all his hatred reflecting in them. Sam looked at Crowley, who was watching him.

“It’s true, Sam, isn’t it? You’re angry and hungry, and sometimes you don’t know what to do with hands if you can’t break someone’s neck, right? And it’s not getting better,” Crowley said in that cold voice of his. “Let me tell you one thing,” he continued. “It will NEVER get better. Your instincts of a monster will overpower the reason and you’ll become an unstoppable killer.”

“No,” Sam said weakly. It couldn’t be true! Just… he felt it was. What he did to Dean today was just the beginning. The lust, getting stronger with every time he looked at his brother, was promising something twisted and dirty… and bloody.

“Oh, yes,” Crowley said. He glanced at Dean glowering at him and smiled wickedly. “But here’s the deal: It doesn’t need to go that far if you agree with my plan to send the Leviathans back to Purgatory.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “There’s a way? For me… and to defeat the Leviathans?”

“Yes, that’s what I’m talking about,” Crowley said in a tone as though Sam was mentally disabled.

“Don’t listen to him, Sam. Demons lie,” Dean said hatefully.

Sam looked at Dean. “You know about the plan, don’t you?” he asked, but his brother stayed quiet, avoiding Sam’s look. Of course Dean knew something about this. And he didn’t tell Sam. That meant there was something about the plan Dean didn’t like.

Sam looked back at the demon. “What is the plan?” he asked wearily.

“Sammy.”

“Dean, I wanna know. I’m tired and if I can do something good, I wanna know about it at least.”

Their eyes met. Dean’s were full of knowledge and sorrow.

“Very well,” Crowley clapped his hands contentedly. “Here’s the thing. There is a spell that opens the gate to Purgatory.”

“The point?” Sam asked.

“It has to be opened from inside.”

“Where’s my part in it?”

Crowley looked at him and this time Sam was sure he was contemplating his mental abilities. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Sam frowned. “No?” he offered.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who can open it from inside.”

Things started giving sense and Sam understood why Dean didn’t want him to know anything about Crowley’s plan. If Sam died, he could stop the Leviathans and send them back from where they came. In case his rotting soul passed to Purgatory of course. How could he be sure Lucifer would give up his favorite prom dress?

Sam glanced at his brother. He could see Dean’s discomfort, the tension in his shoulders, the set jaw, the hard look of his eyes, everything telling Sam his brother was strongly against this foolishness. 

He moved his attention back to the demon. “What if you are wrong? What if I don’t go to Purgatory?” Sam asked, the flames of Hell so vivid in front of his mental eye. “What if Lucifer…”

“Evil Lord of Hell and all the fallen angels! You two are impossible…” Crowley’s patience was obviously at an end. “Lucifer may be powerful, but even in his best shape he’s powerless against the natural order. Human souls go to Heaven or Hell, monsters go to Purgatory. And you are a monster, Sam.”

_Monster…_

Something broke within Sam. Deep inside and painful. He was aware humanity was something that didn’t concern him anymore, but hearing it so directly from someone else… it was like a punch between the eyes, a stab in the back with a sharp knife…Of course, he was a monster, not a human anymore…

Sam’s head was spinning and his stomach started rebelling. His vision went foggy and a high-pitched voice was screaming in his head ‘Monster! Monster! Monster!’

“Release him! Now!” he heard Dean’s panicked voice, and then he slid down the wall, landing on his butt. Warm hands were touching his face, making him raise his head.

“Sam. Sammy. Look at me. Look at me, man!”

Sam was staring into scared green eyes and his only thought was how much he loved them and that he didn’t want them to look at him so worriedly. They didn’t deserve that.

“Breathe, Sammy,” he heard soothing voice, trying to calm him down. “Come on, dude. Inhale, exhale. Come on, with me.”

The green eyes never stopped looking at him and Sam forced himself to listen to the kind voice. He was breathing in a slow, calming rhythm and his racing heart was slowing down finally. He still felt as weak as a piece of cloth.

“Come on, Sammy. Bed’s not so far,” the voice told him, and Sam’s arm was wound around his brother’s neck. Dean supported his weight and Sam wondered how come Dean wasn’t disgusted.

“Touchy,” he could hear the mocking word, but neither he nor Dean paid any attention to it.

Dean got Sam on the bed. His hands were gentler than Sam ever remembered them to be, but maybe he had been just too ignorant to that. Or maybe it had something to do with his sharpened senses. He didn’t know and he didn’t even want to. What mattered was the love for his brother and the undying gratitude to him for always staying by Sam’s side.

“I love you,” he muttered into the mattress.

A heavy sigh reached his ears. “Yeah, I know,” came the soft answer. “Sleep, bitch.”

Sam obeyed gladly.

*

“Was that necessary?” Dean turned to Crowley, fury in his voice. His eyes were glowing with the fire of wrath, and he might be damned, but for that one moment he wished he had had Sam’s werewolf superpowers so that he could tear the son of a bitch into shreds.

“You didn’t tell him and he didn’t seem to realize his importance, so yes, it _was_ necessary. You had your chance to tell him in a more _appropriate_ way.” The word ‘appropriate’ was said in such an insulting tone that Dean had real difficulties not to attack the scumbag even with his bare hands.

“Appropriate!” Dean cried, shaking with anger. “I swear that if you come near my brother again, I’ll kill you.”

“How? Will you exorcise me?” Crowley asked mockingly. “Wake up finally. There’s no way to save Sam and we have a great chance to defeat the Leviathans…”

“You freaking bastard! Sam went to Hell to save the world. Don’t you think it’s a little bit too much wanting something like that from him again?”

Crowley shrugged. “He returned, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, but for what prize,” Dean spat.

“Look, Dean,” Crowley started in a placatory tone. “No one said that Sam’s soul has to stay in Purgatory. When the gate opens, he can slip out.”

Dean gave the demon a suspicious look. “Can he?”

“Of course. If he’s swift enough.”

Sam would be swift enough, there was no doubt, but…

“Who’ll glue the soul and the body together?” Dean asked with hostility.

“I will.”

“ _You_ will?”

“I’m your best shot. Well… the only you have. Think about it.”

Dean glared. “There’s nothing to think about. I still don’t agree. And if you or your pet or any of your minions dares to touch Sam, you will pay for that dearly.”

The hellhound growled from somewhere behind its master. An amused smile appeared on Crowley’s lips and the demon shook his head.

“You don’t agree? Fine. Then you stay here until you understand that you have no other choice. Have fun with your brother.”

Dean pursed his lips. If he only had had his flask with holly water with him to spray the guy’s ugly face!

“I’ll do it,” sounded weakly from the bed. Dean turned around abruptly, seeing Sam sit up.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” he asked, anger slipping into his voice.

“You’re so loud that even dead would wake up,” Sam said and gave Dean a tired smile before his eyes wandered to Crowley. “I’ll do it.”

Crowley smiled contentedly. “At least someone has a brain. Very well.”

“No, Sam,” Dean growled. “You won’t do that!”

“Dean…”

“Shut UP, Sam! I said no.”

Sam sighed. “Give us a minute,” he said to Crowley.

The demon rolled his eyes. “Okay,” he said in the end and left the room together with his invisible pet.

“You can’t be serious!” Dean yelled, outraged, when the door closed behind Crowley.

“I am very serious,” Sam said in a low voice, and he looked even more tired than a while ago.

“No, Sammy. Just no.”

“Dean,” Sam addressed him patiently. “Crowley was right. I’m changing. With every heartbeat I’m less human. I’m a threat.”

Dean shook his head. “Don’t say that, Sam.”

“Dean, even you are afraid of what I could do.”

_Freaking little bitch…_

“What I did to you today,” Sam continued, “we both know I’ll do it again, rougher and more violent…”

Dean looked away. “You won’t,” he said weakly.

A shadow of a sad smile flew over Sam’s face. “I will. I want to do it even now as we speak.”

Dean gave Sam a scrutinizing look.

“The thing is… Those feelings, the hunger and wrath and lust… they are getting stronger. I can’t think clearly and everything is about that urge to sate those emotions, to find satisfaction… I’m a beast, Dean…”

“Shut up!” Dean yelled angrily. “Don’t you EVER dare speak about yourself like this.”

Sam fell silent and he watched Dean pacing the room like a caged animal. What the hell was up with him?

“Why are you giving up? We still can find the cure,” Dean said in a calmer tone, keeping distance from Sam.

“I wish we could. But even if there was something, we won’t find it soon enough. I’m changing, Dean, and once the last bit of humanity slips away, there won’t be a way back.”

Dean ran his hand over his face.

“I’m scared I could hurt you. And I know that sooner or later I will,” Sam said, his voice broken.

“We can…” Dean started to protest again, but his own words sounded hollow and weak.

“We can’t.” Sam stood up from the bed and came up to Dean. He put his arms on his brother’s shoulders and pressed him against a wall gently. They were close, their bodies just inches away from each other. Dean could feel Sam’s hot breath on his face and his heart started beating faster. He stayed perfectly silent and pliant in Sam’s hands. He didn’t have strength to fight anymore.

“I’m dirty and I’m dragging you with me into the mud of my sins. Everything I’ve ever done, it comes out now – stronger and more intense. I’m drowning in the old filth and there is no one who can save me. Not even you, Dean, I’m sorry. There’s nothing you can do this time. You have to let me go.”

Dean’s eyes started burning, but he didn’t dare to look away. Those hazel eyes were staring at him with apology and plea. And the words… The words were like red-hot blades of knives cutting his soul into tiny pieces – slow but precise.

“Sammy…” he rasped, but Sam shook his head and put his index finger on Dean’s mouth to silence him.

“You have to understand, Dean, that everything – every single thing – it’s inside me. The werewolf or whatever the monster within me is feeds on my emotions and throws them out defiled and twisted, but each of them – it’s me.”

Dean looked into Sam’s eyes, sincere and sorrowful.

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

Sam’s look dropped and his hands slid down Dean’s arms. Dean’s brain wasn’t able to process what exactly Sam was trying to tell him.

“Sam,” he addressed his brother hoarsely. “What are you talking about?”

Sam took a deep breath and he reduced the distance between them even more. Dean was amazed how Sam could not touch him and still be so close. If there had been an inch between them, even that would be far.

“The anger turned into rage. What I wanted just to kill before I want to make suffer now and tear into shreds. I want to spill blood and feed on it. The hunger before, I could control it. I was even able to forget it. But now? I smell sulfur and I can’t… I can’t resist it anymore. It’s torturing.”

“Sammy…” Dean didn’t want to listen to it any longer, but he was afraid to push Sam away. He still had the feeling the most important part was yet to come.

“And love…” Sam’s voice faltered. “There were things I wanted. Still want. But I knew they were wrong and… I ran away. But you can never run from your feelings, can you?” Sam exhaled and his eyes met Dean’s for an instant. “You brought me back, and, man, I was so happy to be close to you again! It was wrong feeling like that when Jessica was still there… and then she died and…” He gulped and shrugged. “The point is… that it turned into lust. I would never kill you… not consciously. But because of that feeling… I’m afraid I could hurt you much worse.”

Dean’s heart was racing like a top level athlete on his most important race. What Sam was telling him here… no, it couldn’t be that. No, no… this was Sam, his baby brother, his reason to live, the one whom he was supposed to protect and not screw… What had he done?

“Sammy,” he said in a shaky voice.

Sam’s hand was on his cheek caressing lightly, and then warm lips, soft and gentle, touched his mouth. Sam’s tongue stroked Dean’s lips, but never slipped inside, and Dean noticed the great amount of self-control in that act. The kiss was different from any other Dean had experienced so far, tender and loving but still rougher and more predacious than any woman had ever given him. Surprisingly, Dean realized he liked it and the funny feeling in his stomach didn’t help him much when his hands came up to Sam’s shoulders with an intention to push his brother away, but they stayed there motionless and unwilling to accomplish their mission. Dean closed his eyes and let Sam kiss him as much as his brother wanted to; Dean even opened his mouth a little more in an obvious invitation.

Sam groaned and pulled away.

“Dean,” he said in a whiny tone that totally killed the atmosphere, but he didn’t step away. He rested his forehead against Dean’s and stayed like that for a while. Dean wanted to tell him that it was okay, but the words stayed stuck in his throat.

“Kill me, Dean,” Sam whispered after a while. Dean’s heart gave him a painful squeeze and he closed his eyes tight. “I know it’s unfair to want it from you, but I don’t want anyone elseto do it. I trust _you_.”

“Sam,” Dean wanted to protest, but nothing more came out from his mouth, so Sam continued.

“Hate me if you need to. But, please, free me from this misery before I’ll do something really bad. Help me to do the last good thing.”

The words were just a whisper on the verge of audibility, but still razor-sharp. With his eyes closed, Dean was trying to breathe in a slow, regular rhythm in order to calm down. The warmth of Sam’s body was suddenly gone and when he mustered enough courage to open his eyes again, he saw his brother sitting on the bed and only the broken look of his eyes told Dean that what had just happened wasn’t a dream.

“I hate you, Sam,” Dean said harshly, but both could hear the hollow sound in the statement.

“I know,” Sam said calmly, curling up in a ball with his back pressed to the wall. They stayed quiet, keeping safe distance from each other until Crowley paid them another visit.

*

It was unnaturally silent in Sam’s head. Normally, he would have been glad that his restless emotions finally settled, but there was something sinister about it now. Even his thoughts avoided disturbing that sacred silence. He felt like someone who lost everything in one strong blow and had no chance to get anything back. He was naked in his core and vulnerable. Easy to break completely or bend into a distorted shape. He made a decision, crossed the line, and there was only one way he could walk from here.

He glanced at Dean from time to time. If his brother looked back at him by chance, he was either glaring or looking sad. As if Dean couldn’t decide whether to be pissed at Sam or to feel disappointed with him. Sam wanted to say how sorry he was… but was he really?

He didn’t have time to find the answer to this question… and he didn’t even care. Whatever it was it didn’t matter anymore. The only thing that really mattered was the demon that stepped in and looked at them quizzically. Dean turned away from both Sam and Crowley, letting Sam give the answer.

“The spell?” Sam asked shortly as he stood up from the bed.

The demon understood and nodded in appreciation. He reached into the pocket of his coat and handed Sam a parchment on which a few Latin rhymes were written. They weren’t difficult and Sam could memorize them in no time, but the question was whether his soul would be able to remember them once he reached Purgatory. Dying wasn’t such an easy process after all. It was still kind of a great shock for the soul to pass to the other side.

But there was no other way. He would learn the words, burn them into his memory, and then he would open the gate to get the Leviathans where hey belonged to.

“I need to pee,” Dean grunted from across the room.

Crowley smirked and beckoned to the door. Dean walked out from the room with Crowley at his heels. Sam knew there would be demons waiting for Dean outside to escort him to the bathroom.

He sat back down on the bed, reading the words over and over again in order to remember them.

It took Dean quite a long time to return. When he stepped in, Sam gave him a questioning look, but didn’t say anything. Dean reached into the back of his jeans and pulled out his pistol – the one loaded with silver bullets. He put the gun on the table, his eyes never leaving Sam’s.

Sam nodded. “Thank you.”

“Shut up and tell me when you’re ready.”

Sam repeated the spell a few more times while Dean was standing as far away from him as the room allowed him with a gloomy expression on his handsome face.

“Done,” Sam said after a while. He put the parchment with the spell on the table and took the gun. He stood up and came to Dean slowly. He handed the pistol to his brother.

Dean reached out hesitantly and took the gun, not looking at Sam. He took a deep breath. “If you don’t get out from there while the gate is open, I swear I’ll let the first werewolf or vampire or whatever critter I’ll meet change me, and then I’ll find some hunter to send me to Purgatory so that I could kick your stupid ass.”

Sam smiled and clasped Dean’s hand which was clutching the gun in his big paws. He pressed the barrel against his chest in the place where his heart was beating. “I know you will,” he said quietly.

Dean nodded. “I’m counting to three. One…”

Sam’s lips brushed Dean’s cheek and his fingers resting over Dean’s on the gun shivered. Sam’s thumb touched Dean’s index finger on the trigger.

“T-two…” Dean’s voice trembled.

He never got the chance to say the last number. The shot that echoed in the small room came sooner.

*

They stormed into the room, Crowley and his minions, and waited in tense silence for the gate to open. Dean was cradling the body of his brother and waited with them, but his reason was different. He had done what Sam asked him for, he had let him go, but only for that short moment until the gate was open and Sam could come back. He HAD to come back. There was no other choice.

“Come on, Sammy, come on,” he repeated, whispering into Sam’s deaf ear and scrutinizing the surroundings. He was pushing the remorse back (Sam _was_ going to return to him soon after all), but holding Sam’s dead body in his arms didn’t help him much not to feel guilty and deceived. “Come on, bitch, open the gate.”

The air on the other side of the room rippled and a hole, quickly widening, appeared out from nowhere.

“He did it! It’s the gate!” Crowley exclaimed excitedly.

And then Dean saw Him. He was glowing like a star (Dean really couldn’t come up with less girly comparison) and he was so beautiful, even though the star was deep scarred and bleeding. Dean’s eyes were fixed on Him and the feeling of love and gratitude brushed his consciousness like a soft caress of a summer breeze.

“Sammy,” he whispered, and hope filled him.

Wind blew towards the gate and Sam’s soul vanished from Dean’s sight. _No!_ Screams echoed from every direction and he could see the black, shapeless creatures being sucked into the hole. The Leviathans in their true forms. He knew when Dick passed the gate and Dean couldn’t help himself but to feel deep satisfaction.

“That was for Bobby, you son of a bitch,” he growled, pressing Sam’s motionless body tighter to his chest.

After the last Leviathan found his way back to Purgatory, the hole started vanishing. Dean dropped Sam’s body on the floor and jumped right on his feet.

“Hey!” he cried. “What about Sam?”

“Sorry, Dean, he obviously didn’t make it,” Crowley said in a triumphant voice.

It dawned on Dean with a painful intensity. He pierced Crowley with a furious look. “You knew that. You knew there wasn’t a way out.”

Crowley shrugged and smiled innocently. “Maybe there was. I don’t know. As you said, I’m a demon and demons lie.”

“You son of a…!”

A big paw of the hellhound shoved him on the ground. The smell of rotting flesh dazed him for a moment.

“Goodbye, Dean.”

The hellhound snarled and then there was deep silence.

Dean looked around. He was alone. Completely alone. Not even the invisible pile of mud was there as far as Dean could tell.

He rose from the floor slowly, his eyes still scanning the surroundings. He listened to the silence, but not even the faintest sound reached his ears. He breathed out and turned to the dead body lying on the floor.

“Sammy…”

He sank on his knees and took Sam into his arms again. A big lump grew in his throat as he pressed his brother close, the shot heart resting against Dean’s beating one.

“How could you do this, Sammy? How could you talk me into this?” he whispered into his hair. The hot tears started rolling down his cheeks and Dean didn’t try to wipe them away.

“Sammy, you idiot. How could you do this to me again? I fucking hate you…” His voice broke, knowing what a big lie he had just said.

*

Dean grieved his brother for the third time, but it was much more painful now. Not just guilt, but also shame and disgust of himself dug their claws into his soul. When he lay down to have some sleep (having no idea where he was and which part of a day or night it was, it didn’t matter), he was gazing into nothingness for a long time, recalling the last moments of Sam’s life.

The bitch tricked him.

Sam knew Dean would never have been able to pull the trigger and he had no guts to kill himself either. He needed Dean’s support, his approval and his strength to be able to do the radical move.

They’d always been strongest together.

Dean exhaled and frowned. One question was resonating in his head: _Since when the natural order of life and death applied to the Winchesters?_ And he knew his task.


	6. Sammy Comes Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I went through the all chapters in my computer, I realized I made a mistake in their number. There is actually 11 chapters plus a special one plus the Epilogue, which I decided to upload as a single chapter and not as a part of the special chapter as I originally intended to. That's why the number of chapters changed from 11 to 13. Sorry for the mistake ^^

Two months passed since the time Dean had killed his brother. Two months of chasing after someone who could bring Sam back. Crossroads demons were forbidden to bargain with him (the fact Sam wouldn’t have agreed with Dean making a deal with a crossroads demon again was irrelevant at the moment) and angels ignored his calling altogether.

Dean could have been looking for Good Samaritan (or a cunning merchant – just semantics) till the end of his life if the time hadn’t pressed. He couldn’t move Sam’s body from morgue to morgue, it was just a temporary solution, but if he wasn’t able to find anyone who would bring Sam back, Dean would have to bury him eventually. Let his body rot in earth… or burn him and make the return utterly impossible. Nothing of that was appealing.

The first morgue kept the corpse for two weeks while Dean was chasing demons. The second one was more generous and gave him a whole month. The time in the third one was going to be up in two days, leaving Dean with the trouble to find another morgue instead of looking for the one who could raise Sam from the dead.

Seeing Sam’s body disappearing in a freezer was morbid and hard for Dean to watch, but he was never able to leave before he made sure Sam was safely deposited for another couple of weeks.

He missed Sam sourly. The empty seat next to him while he was driving, the silence in a small motel room… the absence of the warm, firm body pressed to him – all that reminded him his bloody deed. Whenever Dean looked at his hands, he saw blood of his brother, heard the gunshot silencing Sam’s heartbeat.

And he was angry. Man, he was SO angry with the bitch! _I’ll bring you back just to kick your ass… moron._ Yet, being angry with Sam wasn’t making the things better... and that made Dean even more furious.

Time was up. Again. And he had to take his little brother from the morgue. It felt so wrong and disrespectful having him in a black sack in the back seat…

There was one thing he hadn’t tried yet, but he was kind of reluctant about it. The last time he and Sam summoned Death, hoping they could do such a foolish thing as bind him and make him kill the God (who accidentally happened to be their old friend, later on their enemy, Castiel), the Winchester brothers and Death didn’t part in a friendly mood.

He glanced into the rearview mirror at the sack and he knew he had to give it a try at least… It was for Sam after all.

He found and old, abandoned warehouse and brought there everything he needed for the summoning spell. He left the sack with Sam’s body in the car, knowing that if he failed this last chance, he would have to bury Sam in the end.

The spell was spoken and Dean listened to the deep silence. Time was passing by, but nothing happened.

Five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen…     

Dean gave up hope. He sank on his knees and lowered his head. “You dummy, Sammy…” He still wasn’t ready to accept that he wouldn’t see his brother ever again till the end of the eternity.

Dean’s chest ached. He closed his eyes, taking slow, deep breath, trying not to break down.

“Dean Winchester. I could have known that if there was someone as arrogant as to call Death after he told you not to dare to do that ever again, it would be you.”

Dean’s head shot up and he stared at the man standing in the summoning circle. He stood up quickly.

“I’m sorry,” he hurried with the answer. “I’m sorry for what happened the last time. We were fools…”

“You were,” Death interrupted. “If you could spare me your apology, I’d like to hear an explanation for summoning me again.”

“It’s Sam,” Dean said with pain in his voice.

“He’s dead, I know,” Death said. “What do you want from me?”

“Bring him back. Please, bring him back.”

Death’s face darkened. “I’m Death,” said the Horseman of Apocalypse coldly. “I’m supposed to send souls to the other side, not to bring them back.”

“I’m begging you.”

“Your arrogance is limitless,” Death said, piercing Dean with his icy look. Dean trembled, but didn’t step back. “Some angels and powerful demons can interfere with my job,” he said, and a trace of anger was distinguishable in his voice, “but it doesn’t mean the things don’t have their natural order. Your brother’s time is up and I’m not an angel or a crossroads demon to give him back his lost years just out of the pocket. Even the favorites of Heaven and Hell must die one day, Dean.”

“Sam died in order to save the world TWICE. He deserves some reward…”

Death’s eyes narrowed. “Am _I_ supposed to reward him? I’m one of the Horsemen of Apocalypse. I’m rewarding with eternal sleep.”

“We freed you from the Devil…”

“And I thanked you for that. Later on, I brought your brother’s soul back and restored the natural order of the things by that deed, so if you want to use that time against me, don’t bother. A soulless body walking the world was against all laws. I could turn him into ash, but I made you a favor. We’re even now. I don’t owe you anything.”

Desperation took over Dean. “Please,” he begged again in a shaky voice.

“Even if I could do that, why should I?” Death asked, and the chill in his voice made Dean’s blood freeze. He wished to be in that black sack with his brother, cold and motionless, but with him.

“I’m not complete without him,” Dean said quietly. “He’s my other half.”

An amused smile flew over Death’s face. “Do you have an idea how many people say that?”

“Sam doesn’t belong to Purgatory…”

“He turned into one of the creatures that are not God’s creations. His soul was infected and that’s why he belongs where he is now.”

Dean shook his head. “No. He doesn’t.”

“Dean, Purgatory isn’t Hell. It can be cruel, that is true, but it can be pleasant as well. Purgatory is very much alike to this world.”

“I can’t leave him there alone.”

Death straightened up (was that even possible? He was already as straight as a stick…) and gave Dean a scrutinizing look. “What do you want to do?” he asked.

“What I’ll have to,” Dean said, making a decision. “If there’s no one to help me to bring Sam back, I’m going after him.” He should have done that long ago.

“You want to waste your life and throw everything good you can still do into trash?” Death asked incredulously.

“I can’t do those things without Sam, I’m useless without him. So yes, I do.”

“You weren’t useless when he left for college,” Death objected.

“I knew he was there and doing okay. That was enough for me.”

“You weren’t useless when he jumped into the Pit.”

“Actually, I was. I stopped hunting and I spent most of the time pitying myself.”

“You made the woman happy.”

“Probably. Later. But I didn’t love her, not the way I should have, and sooner or later I would have broken her heart. She gave me everything but it didn’t feel right. I missed Sam and knowing he was at Lucifer’s and Michael’s mercy was torturing me all the time. I never stopped looking for the way to bring him back. Even if Sam hadn’t turned up in my doorway, I would have left Lisa one day.” Dean took a deep breath and continued. “You say his time is up. If I could give him my time, I would.”

“That’s a precarious request. How much time would you be willing to give him?”

“I would give him every minute of my life.”

Death snorted. “You’re wasting my time…”

Dean stiffened, knowing he said something wrong.

“I’ll give all your time to Sam, you’ll die and he’ll come to me with the same request as you did,” Death explained.

Dean sniffed hope. “You can give Sam my time of living?”

“Time is a currency of life and death. I can take some of your years and give them to Sam. What I can’t do is giving him extra years. Only angels can do that.”

Dean frowned. “Didn’t you say something about demons, too?”

“Demons are just playing dirty games with the time. Like when they brought your brother back for the first time. They gave him the years of some sinner who made a deal with them before. Maybe those were your years. The crossroads demons steal the time. It’s not like your time is over and you go to Hell. If it was, a Reaper would come, not a hellhound. The angel that brought you back from death gave you a whole new time that didn’t belong to anyone.”

Silence fell. The things Dean had just heard needed some time to settle. So… it was like with money. Angels could press their own notes if they needed (wanted) them and demons knew how to play poker and win. The natural order looked so twisted from this perspective…

Dean thought about the dick angels. Yeah, the guys weren’t extremely friendly with him these days, and there was still that ‘I can’t do that’ and ‘the orders’ stuff. Anyway, this was Dean’s best shot. He had a chance to get Sam back.

“How much time do I have?” he asked, his voice firm.

“I cannot tell you.”

Of course… “I ask you to give Sam the exact half of my time. I want us to die at the same moment.”

Death nodded with appreciation. “You should know one more thing,” he said. “With your time I can bring Sam back, but I can’t make him human again. Once he dies, he’ll go to Purgatory again.”

“Tell me… if you can… Will we have enough time to find a cure?”

“Depends on how much time you will need.”

 _As vague as ever…_ Dean sighed and looked at Death with determination. “Let’s do this.”  

Death reached out and touched Dean’s forehead. Dean felt the life being dragged out of him, his legs went wobbly and his heart was pounding so fast that he thought it would burst.

The cold hand was gone after the time that felt like eternity and yet Dean would have sworn it lasted only a few seconds. He sank to his knees, panting. He felt decades older and worn out.

“Get Sam’s body ready,” said Death and turned away from Dean.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“To retrieve you brother’s soul from Purgatory,” said the Horseman and vanished in thin air.

Dean got up to his feet. His bones hurt and his muscles were stiff and uncooperative, but Dean made them listen to his will.

He tottered out from the warehouse and walked slowly to the car. He opened a back door and had to rest for a while.

He looked around to make sure he was completely alone and only then he reached for the black sack.

“You’ll be okay soon, Sammy,” he said. He felt ashamed for pulling his brother’s body like a piece of meat into the warehouse, but – God forgive him! – he didn’t have enough strength to get him inside in a more respectful way.

After he was done with this task, he hurried back to the car to bring the duffel with Sam’s clothes. He took a deep breath and unzipped the sack.

Seeing the pale, dead face was like a wooden stake through his heart. He hoped Death didn’t trick him, because it would be the cruelest joke ever. His fingers ran into Sam’s hair and stroked lightly before they followed the path down to Sam’s cheek.

“Time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty. I’m not a prince, but I miss you as much, bitch.”

He started covering Sam’s nakedness with clothes, trying to be as gentle as possible despite the fact Sam couldn’t feel a thing. It was morbid and just proving how screwed he was, but he remembered the times when Sammy didn’t go to school yet and Dean was helping him with dressing and trying to teach him how to button up a shirt properly. Sometimes he thought Sam missed a hole on purpose so that Dean, who wasn’t much of a patient nature, buttoned up Sam’s shirt for him. The same went with shoelaces. Sam learned to do it alone pretty fast, but he still liked pretending how terrible he was when Dean was around. Dean didn’t mind playing along, scolding Sam just in order to not lose his face as an older brother, but enjoying every single time Sam smiled and hugged him, saying ‘You’re the best big brother in the world’. Dean always felt like he grew up a few feet.

He barely pushed the last button through the hole when the Horseman of Apocalypse returned.

“Step back,” he ordered, and Dean left his brother’s side just unwillingly.

Death put the bag he brought with himself on the floor next to Sam’s body, opening it and reaching in. A strong feeling of déja vu came over Dean as he was watching Death pull out a shiny, fluttering object – Sam’s soul – and pushed it inside the body. The Horseman touched Sam’s forehead with the other hand and he stayed like that for a couple of minutes.

“Time is the glue holding the body and the soul together,” Death explained. “Use it wisely.” He pulled his hands away.

Dean’s heart stopped beating for a moment and the one second until Sam took the first breath was painfully long.

“Sammy!” He descended on his knees next to Sam and reached out to touch his face. “Sam…” He hugged him close, never wanting to let him go.

Sam coughed into his shoulder. “Dean,” he rasped.

Dean pulled away, but his hands stayed resting on Sam’s shoulders. He needed to feel him and to know Sam was alive and with him again and was completely ignoring the confusion in Sam’s eyes.

Sam looked around and only then Dean realized Death was long gone. He regretted a little that he hadn’t thanked him, but he knew the Horseman wouldn’t care much about his thanks.

“This is not Purgatory. You’re not dead,” Sam stated the obvious, but he looked even more confused.

Dean grinned like a loon. “No, it is not. You’re alive, Sammy.” He hugged his brother again.  

“A…live?” Sam freed himself from Dean’s bear embrace. “Did you make a deal?” The hazel eyes were searching for any sign in Dean’s face that would tell them the truth.

Dean shrugged. “Kinda,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed desperately. “How long?”

“Calm down, Sammy,” Dean said with a frown. “It wasn’t a demon who brought you back. It was Death himself.”

Sam blinked, staring at Dean, perplexed. “What did he want in exchange?”

Dean shrugged. “Nothing.” He stood up and offered Sam a hand. Sam grabbed it and reeled a little as he rose on his stiff feet. Dean offered him support and Sam accepted it gladly.

“What is the trick?” Sam asked as they were walking out from the warehouse.

Dean sighed. “Do we really need to talk about it right now?”

Sam pursed his lips. “As you wish,” he growled and let Dean help him into the car.

When Dean got in the driver’s seat, he graced Sam with a happy grin. Sam shook his head, but a little smile appeared on his lips as well.

“How are you feeling?” Dean asked, starting the engine.

Sam shrugged. “Like I was dead for months. My body’s stiff.”

Dean nodded and smiled. “Are you hungry?”

Sam breathed out loudly. “I would eat a cow,” he said and chuckled. “How long haven’t I eaten?”

“Two months.”

Sam stayed quiet and sniffed the air. “Just by chance… I didn’t come back as a…” he said after a while.

Dean held his breath for a moment. “No, Sammy. I’m sorry.”

Sam sighed. “You should’ve left me there.”

Dean glanced at Sam. “No, I shouldn’t.”

“Dean.”

“Sam.”

Sam shook his head in desperation. “What was the point of it if I’m still… this?”

Dean glared. “I thought the point was to get the world rid of the Leviathans.”

Sam bit his lip and stayed silent, staring out from the window.

“Sam?”

Sam growled quietly. “Look at me, Dean,” he started, and his anger was flowing out in small, restrained waves. “I’m a freak. A monster. You’re better off without me.”

Dean couldn’t listen to this anymore. He stopped the car on the side of the road and got out. Sam followed him hesitantly.

“I told you not to say that EVER again!” Dean exploded, pacing to and fro, unable to look at Sam. “How can you even say that?” His voice faltered and he gave Sam a suspicious look. “You didn’t want to come back from Purgatory when the gate opened, did you?”

“At first I did, but the gate didn’t let me pass. And then, when I thought about it… I was glad I couldn’t come back. I’m only a burden.”

Dean stopped pacing. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths in order to calm down. When he opened his eyes again, Sam was standing out of his reach, watching him carefully. Dean gave him a wry smile.

“You didn’t want to come back. I get it. Sorry I bothered…”

“Dean…” Sam’s voice sounded broken.

“It’s okay. You don’t need to say anything. Now get in the car.”

Sam didn’t move. “Dean, please.”

Dean was really trying hard to keep his anger under control. “Get in the car, Sam.”

Sam moved slowly to the door, but there he hesitated. His eyes tried to catch Dean’s.

“What?” Dean growled.

Sam gave him a shy look. “You think I don’t care, but I do. You’re the most precious person in my world and I don’t want to hurt you ever again.” He tried for a weak smile before he slid into the car.

Dean didn’t move. The anger was gone at once, leaving just heaviness of worry and sadness. He walked slowly to the door on the driver’s side and got in. He could feel Sam’s look on him, but he was trying to ignore it.

Sam didn’t stop gazing at him until they arrived into a town. Dean bought them take-away meals (getting a double portion for Sam) and then they found a motel. Sam wolfed his big portion in no time and Dean could only wonder what a quick eater his brother had become. He wasn’t a slow eater himself, but Sam definitely beat him in this discipline now.

They talked very little. Dean was still angry and disappointed and seeing Sam’s werewolf habits still present wasn’t making the things any easier. They needed to find the cure. Soon.

*

Sam was restless. It wasn’t hunger this time – he didn’t miss demon blood for the time being, even though he knew it was just a matter of time. He yearned for touch. He glanced at Dean from time to time, but his brother was keeping distance. Sam couldn’t blame him.

Sam was happy. He really was. But he was afraid as well. He was back, but nothing was solved (if he didn’t count the Leviathan thing). He was still a monster and even though he didn’t feel the torturing needs for the time being, he knew that sooner or later his dark side would take over him again. He was scared to death by the thought that he would take his brother down with him. He couldn’t let that happen. He was determined to fight as long as he would have the strength.

He glanced at Dean, sniffing the air. Dean’s faint scent was floating around, making Sam even itchier for him. He hid in the bathroom for a while, using the need for a shower as an excuse (even though it didn’t even occur to Dean to question Sam’s abrupt disappearance). He took off his clothes slowly and looked into the mirror, finding a scar after the silver bullet on his chest. Sam put his hand over it, feeling his heart alive and beating. He wondered what Dean had promised to Death for bringing his little bro back.

He took a quick shower and when he returned into the room, he found Dean sprawled on his bed and watching TV. Sam descended on his own bed, pretending he was watching the TV as well, but in reality he concentrated on Dean’s presence. He had missed him so dearly during the time he had spent in Purgatory! All that fear and love and longing – tortures worse than Hell.

Sam missed Dean even now. The distance between the beds appeared so great and unbearable, filling Sam with the feeling of loneliness. He needed his brother as close as possible and that was why he moved to the other bed and sat down beside Dean with his eyes glued to the TV screen, although he didn’t know what he was looking at. In the corner of his eye he registered Dean glance at him, but Sam’s brother didn’t say anything. Maybe Dean wanted this, too…

Sam waited a couple of minutes before he tried for another move to be closer. He shifted to the headboard and leaned against it with his back, pressing his shoulder to Dean’s. It was supposed to look accidental, but Sam didn’t intend to pull away and Dean must have noticed it. He stiffened, but still didn’t say a word. When Sam didn’t move anymore, he relaxed finally.

They were watching the TV (or in Sam’s case more like staring blankly at the screen), sitting side by side on the bed in complete silence. Sam’s eyelids started feeling heavy and he allowed himself to sink into pleasant darkness…

*

Dean tensed when Sam’s head fell on his shoulder and his nose was buried into Dean’s neck. The disappointment from before was slowly washing away. Sammy still needed him. Was still looking for his presence. Dean turned his head a bit and pressed his mouth to the crown of Sam’s head. Sam was back. And no matter how little time they still had, Dean was determined not to waste it. He had given the half of it to Sam and he didn’t want to spend the rest of it away from him. He wanted him exactly like this: close and trusting and needy for his big brother.

He reached for the remote and turned off the TV. He sat like that in the darkness with his sleeping brother pressed to him in quiet and uncomfortable position. He sighed. They both needed a proper sleep (Dean definitely hadn’t slept properly since Sam had gone to Purgatory), and this was not going to work. He tapped Sam’s shoulder lightly.

“Sammy, wake up.”

Sam whined quietly into Dean’s neck and snuggled even closer.

“Sammy, bedtime. Go to your bed.”

Sam groaned and lifted his head.

“Bed, Sammy. Go.”

Sam growled, but obeyed. Dean wasn’t sure whether he flipped back into being ‘the night Sam’ and ‘the day Sam’, especially when they had seemed to be merging together during Sam’s last days before he chose to die. Nevertheless, he didn’t look pleased with Dean sending him in his own bed. Sam huddled under the covers, but Dean still could feel the heaviness of his frown. This wasn’t the night Sam from before. This one was different. Fully awake.

Dean gulped when he realized that. He turned around not to face Sam.

“Good night,” he muttered, getting no answer.

*

He couldn’t sleep. Two hours had passed and he was still awake. Sam obviously had the same problem. He got out from the bed maybe an hour ago and started pacing the room, making short breaks by the window. Only after Dean told him off, he sat down on the edge of his bed.

Dean sighed. This was not going to work either…

“Take your comforter and c’mere,” he said.

Even in the darkness he could see the glitter of Sam’s eyes staring at him warily.

“C’mere, Sam,” Dean repeated.

Sam didn’t ask for the reason. He took his comforter and as silent as a hunting wolf he crossed the distance separating them, crawling on the bed beside Dean.

“Better?”

Sam shrugged, wordless.

“Sleep.”

Sam nodded, taking a deep breath.

Another hour passed and they still weren’t sleeping. Sam was staring at Dean and Dean was pretending he didn’t notice, but it was already driving him crazy.

“Sam, what’s up?” he asked tiredly.

Sam’s hand touched Dean’s hesitantly before it slid into his big brother’s hand completely. Dean looked into Sam’s frightened eyes and squeezed his fingers lightly to assure him that he didn’t mind. Sam breathed out a sigh of relief and relaxed. He held Dean’s hand firmer. “I missed you,” he whispered, his thumb brushing Dean’s skin.

“Yeah,” Dean sighed. “What… was it like?” he asked slowly.

“Purgatory?”

“Uhm.”

“It’s not a nice bedtime story,” Sam said softly.

“I don’t care.”

Sam huffed into the pillow. “Okay,” he said, but he didn’t sound upset at all. “It’s different.”

“Different from what? Hell?”

“Hell, Heaven, our world… Different. The first thing is that time passes differently for everyone. What appears to you like a few weeks for someone else can be like years. And then… you start thinking whether they really were right, but then you think it was just a few minutes. I could say time doesn’t exist there.”

“Oh… well…” Dean didn’t know what to say. It sounded so absurd and… he couldn’t say he understood what Sam was talking about.

“How long did it take me to open the gate?” Sam asked abruptly.

“Er… about ten, maybe fifteen minutes? I’m not sure,” Dean replied, realizing he didn’t have an idea.

“Good,” Sam said, and Dean could hear relief in his voice.

“Why?”

“Because when I got there, I couldn’t remember what my task was. The only thing I remembered…” He fell silent. “Never mind. The point is that I knew you were waiting here for me to do something, I just didn’t know what it was. And… there is one more thing about Purgatory. Your feelings get much more intense. Whatever you feel – love, hatred, pain, loss – all that intensifies to the level you can’t even imagine. I missed you terribly and I wasn’t able to think about anything else.”

Dean listened to Sam intently. His heart was beating in a fast rhythm and he squeezed Sam’s hand stronger. “I’m here,” he whispered. In the light of streetlamps penetrating inside he saw Sam smile. “How did you remember?” Dean asked.

The smile disappeared. “I met Madison there. She helped me to push the feeling of loss back and concentrate on another feeling.”

Dean fidgeted. “What feeling?” he asked, his voice sounding rougher.

“Love. The reason why I had to do that, to go there and accomplish the goal. It took me some time, but I remembered in the end.” Sam exhaled slowly and closed his eyes.

Dean poked him with his free hand. “Hey, don’t sleep. You were gone for more than two months. What were you doing the rest of the time? Staying with Madison? I heard that Purgatory could be pleasant…”

Sam opened his eyes and gave Dean a long look. “It can,” he admitted after a while. Dean was waiting for him to say more, but Sam stayed silent.

“Sammy?” Dean was suddenly afraid to hear more, but he had to. He had to know where he had sent his brother. “Tell me everything,” he whispered.

Sam let go of his hand and buried his fingers into Dean’s hair instead. “Why?”

Dean shivered and took a deep breath. “I need to know.”

“You don’t,” Sam said softly, shifting closer. His hand ran down Dean’s body to his waist and stayed resting there.

Dean didn’t move. “Sam, I do. I pulled the trigger,” he said, and ice slipped into his voice.

“We pulled it together,” Sam said calmly.

Dean frowned. “You tricked me. You owe me.”

“Sleep, Dean.”

Dean kicked Sam’s shin. “Get out of my bed.”

Sam stiffened and tangled his fingers into Dean’s T-shirt.

“Sam.”

“It wasn’t just Madison who I met,” Sam said gravely. “Remember Gordon?”

Dean gasped. “You… he…”

Sam pressed to Dean, shivering all over. “Purgatory is nothing between Heaven and Hell. It’s both,” he whispered and hid his face in the crook of Dean’s neck.

Dean’s hand came up and he stroked Sam’s back soothingly. “What did Gordon do to you?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even despite the horror that crept into his heart. What did the dead man do to his brother that Sam turned into a scared puppy the moment he remembered him?

“It’s what we did to each other.” Sam’s voice was muffled by Dean’s shoulder, but Dean still could hear the words. “ _Everything_ is stronger there: hatred, pain, the joy of victory. Just like in Heaven or Hell, you can’t pass out or die. You give and take everything far beyond the lines of your imagination.”

Dean’s heart throbbed with guilt and shame. Having no words but wanting to do something to bring Sam cuddled up to him some comfort, he maneuvered his other arm around his brother, locking him in a tight embrace. Sam sniffed and took a deep breath, his nose pressed to Dean’s neck.

Dean ran his hand through Sam’s shaggy hair. “It’s okay now. You’re with me,” he whispered soothingly.

Instead of answering, Sam dug the fingers of both his hands into Dean’s T-shirt as though he was never to let him go.

“It’s okay,” Dean repeated. “You’re safe now.”

Sam mewled and that was the last thing Dean heard from him that night.

*

When Dean woke up in the morning to the cold feeling of nothing by his side, the first thing he saw was Sam standing by the bed with a broad smile on his face.

“Breakfast,” Sam said cheerfully and handed Dean a large burger.

“Huh?” Dean sat up and rubbed his still sleepy eyes. He took the burger while Sam put a cup of coffee into his other hand. “How long have you been awake?”

Sam shrugged and grinned. “Did you miss me?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Shut up.” He sipped from the coffee. Warmth spread through his body and doped him with energy.

Sam flopped on the bed next to him, his knee brushed Dean’s. Dean raised his eyes from the plastic cup in his hand, glancing at his brother. Sam smiled and leaned in, pressing a quick kiss on Dean’s cheek. Before Dean had a chance to react, Sam was gone, tidying up then mess on the table across the room.

Dean watched him for a moment. “Did you eat?” he asked and was given another broad smile.

Sam nodded, throwing wet paper into a bin.

“What did you eat?”

“Steaks,” Sam said simply and shot Dean a look as though he was afraid what Dean could say about that.

“Steaks? For breakfast?”

Sam shrugged.

“How many?”

“Four.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Wow.” Even he wasn’t able to eat more than one and a half at once, not talking about Sam, who normally ate just one and a lot of disgusting veggies. Bleh… “You must’ve been really hungry. Were they rare or well-done?”

Something in Sam’s eyes told him that the question wasn’t quite right. Sam looked nervous suddenly.

Dean needed more coffee for another question. He took a big gulp, burning his lips. “Dammit!”

Sam was kneeling in front of him (how did he get there so fast?) and reaching for his face. He brushed Dean’s burned lip with his finger with concern in his eyes, and his mouth was suddenly over Dean’s in an open-mouthed kiss. Sam’s lips were cool and wet and they tasted… well… funny.

Dean put the burger he had been still clutching in his hand on the bed next to him and pushed Sam away. The hurt expression on his brother’s face didn’t escape him.

“Were… the steaks rare or raw?” he asked instead of yelling at Sam whether he was sane. Sam hadn’t been sane for some time and Purgatory sharpened his shapes obviously…

Sam made an apologetic face. “The latter.”

Dean’s stomach made a somersault. “Okay, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” He unwrapped the burger (but at first checked whether the meat inside was safe to eat) and took a big bite.

“Sorry,” Sam said quietly.

Dean sighed. “It’s okay,” he said with his mouth full.

Sam tried for a small smile before he stood up and disappeared in the bathroom for more than a half-hour.

*

When the Princess finally got out from the bathroom, clean and sweet-smelling, he was in a good mood again. They signed out from the motel and hit the road, AC/DC screaming through the speakers and Dean singing along while Sam was making faces at first, but then he joined. Dean had to admit they both were horrible singers (especially Sam, as he thought with satisfaction), but it felt great and when he glanced at Sam, he could see the old adoration he missed so much since Sam grew up from children’s pants. He grinned, patting Sam’s knee playfully, and for this treasurable moment he felt full of hope. Sam captured his hand in his large paw and returned the smile, and Dean didn’t pull his hand away until he needed to change gear.

*

Their good mood lasted until they stopped in a small town to have a lunch in a local diner. The waitress was cute and started flirting with Dean, but there were Sam’s murderous glares again. She winced and gave Dean a weird look.

“I… I’m sorry. I didn’t know you two…”

Dean kicked Sam under the table and Sam gave a muffled whine, but didn’t stop glowering at the girl.

“No, we’re not. He’s my brother.”

The waitress glanced at Sam (and the bitch _growled_ at her) and a strangled, unconvinced “aha” was all she said to this matter.

Dean kicked Sam harder, earning the same murderous look as the waitress. He smiled at her. “I’m sorry. He’s not completely okay in his head, if you know what I mean. He thinks he has to protect me from everything and gets upset quickly. Can we get take-away meals?”

“Sure,” the waitress said and stalked away, obviously happy to get away from Sam.

Dean looked at Sam strictly. “Cut it out.”

“I don’t like her,” Sam said defensively.

“I said cut it out. She’ll bring us the food and we’ll be out of here, but until then behave. Understood?”

Sam nodded, but didn’t stop glaring.  

*

Dean supposed it was safer to get Sam out of the town once he found there an enemy. They were quiet and while Sam was stuffing himself with his portion Dean was thinking about their life from this point. They had who knows how much time to find the cure for Sam, but he didn’t want to waste the time chasing after it while there were still so much to fix between the two of them.

Sam interrupted the silence after he finished his portion and started bitching about it being too small.

“Take mine,” Dean said to him. He didn’t touch his meal yet. He kind of didn’t feel hungry anymore since he had seen those cold eyes of his brother reminding him what Sam still was.

Sam shut up for a moment and then asked: “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I am.”

The smile on Sam’s face was priceless, yet Dean didn’t feel better this time. He pulled the car to the side of the road and turned off the engine. “We need to talk.”

Sam gave him a questioning look and he looked quiet comical with half of a burger in his mouth. “Hm?”

“It has to stop, Sam. You have to stop being mean to people who try to approach me.”

Sam frowned and put the rest of the burger on the paper spread on his knees. “Is this about the bitch from the diner?”  

“Bitch?” Dean glared. “Do you hear yourself?”

Sam shrugged. “She was flirting with you.”

“And?”

Sam turned to Dean, frowning. “You’re m-”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll punch you,” Dean interrupted. “Sam, what the hell is up with you?”

“I’ve become a werewolf?” Sam offered innocently.

Dean’s face hardened. “You’ve become a moron.”

Sam looked away with an offended expression on his face.

“Sam, I don’t have anyone but you. Why do you think I would prefer some stranger to you?”

Sam slid lower in the seat, his eyes fixed at the road winding in front of them. “Because I’m a guy and your brother on top of that,” he muttered.

Dean sighed. “Sam, you’re making the things a way too complicated. What exactly do you want from me?”

Sam wriggled and glanced at Dean before he looked away again.

“Sammy,” Dean demanded.

“I… want to be the only one for you,” Sam said at last, his face red, perfectly reflecting his embarrassment.

“And you are, okay?” Dean said, gripping the steering wheel in his hands, but his look never leaving Sam’s face. “You’re mine… and only… But I need some time to get used to the idea of my brother being a jealous bitch. So… since when do you feel like this?” He asked, scrutinizing Sam’s face.

“Pretty much… since forever,” Sam said shyly.

Dean grimaced. “Come on, Sam. When did you realize that… you know…?”

Sam stayed silent. He obviously didn’t feel comfortable with the conversation.

“I just want to be sure it’s not a brother-complex. I mean… I know I’m irresistible…”

Sam’s cold glare silenced him at once.

Dean gulped and started the engine. “Fine, we don’t need to talk. Feels awkward anyway.” He pulled the car on the road.

Dean still wasn’t sure how to feel about this revelation. On one hand, he liked the idea of being the most important person in Sam’s world, on the other, finding out how much important he was for him was a bit scary. Especially because Sam was his _brother._ Brothers didn’t have such kind of relationship.

Well… not normally.

But the two of them were far from normal.

Sam wanted him. Longed for him. And he was probably as afraid of it as Dean was, otherwise there was no explanation for the fact that he had confessed to Dean only when he turned into a werewolf hungry for whatever it was. Some pieces of puzzle finally fitted together and Dean was sure Sam’s hunger for the demon blood wasn’t the true fuel of his anger. It was frustration.

He glanced at Sam, who was staring out from the window, deep in thought. Dean watched the features of a man, but there was still something boyish in Sam’s face, in his eyes, something Dean wasn’t able to resist and it didn’t allow him to freak out even if he wanted to.

Maybe there was nothing wrong about it (considering there were far worse things about the two of them than this). Looking back at all of his relationships, mostly one-night stands – he always found the way to walk away without any regrets. Even his relationship with Lisa was over the moment Sam stepped back into his life (after a whole freaking year! – the only excuse for that was his missing soul). Sam had been shaping his world ever since Mom told Dean he was going to have a sibling when he was three years old, not knowing yet whether it would be a little sister or a brother. He fell in love with the unborn baby and couldn’t wait to finally meet it.

And here he was, his silent brother, a werewolf, a broken man, a scarred soul, a traitor, a beggar, a hero, a shade of his past self, a great hunter, a walking cyclopedia of weirdness, a shell filled with wrath and love, the center of Dean’s universe. No one knew him better than Dean, no one could love him more truly than his big brother.

“Sam,” Dean’s voice echoed into the silence.   

Sam turned to him, curiosity visible in his face. Dean looked right into his eyes – hazel overshadowed by innocent blue again – and he could see what he was looking for in their depth: love and adoration.

“May I try something?”

Sam looked confused but he nodded and Dean stopped the car one more time on the side of the road. He turned to Sam and stretched out his hand, touching his brother’s cheek lightly. Sam was watching him, confusion even deeper, but he never pulled away, waiting and trusting Dean completely.

Dean leaned in and his lips brushed lightly Sam’s mouth. It was just a soft touch, quick and hesitant, and even though it was over soon, Dean didn’t pull away. He was breathing Sam’s scent, waiting for Sam to panic and pull away, but Sam never did that. He was as still as a marble statue, his hazel eyes wide and staring into Dean’s green ones. Their mouths were just inches away and the brothers were very well aware of that fact, both tense and waiting for the response of the other.

Since Dean was the initiator, he was also the one who brought this moment to an end with a new and more courageous kiss. He was still unsure of his doing and Sam must have felt that, but he neither stopped Dean nor did he pull away. Dean’s tongue swept over Sam’s mouth shyly before it slipped inside, tasting him and – Holly Mother of the Lord! – wasn’t it the best taste ever?

Sam gave a low, excited whine and tangled his fingers in Dean’s jacket. At last, he reciprocated, welcomed Dean’s tongue in his mouth with a light stroke…

Dean couldn’t remember when a kiss turned him on this much and he knew that if he didn’t stop RIGHT NOW, he would be in a big trouble. He broke the kiss – and this time Sam’s whine sounded disappointed – but he still didn’t pull away, panting as he was breathing Sam’s scent. His hand was still on Sam’s cheek, but his eyes were avoiding looking at his brother. Sam leaned into the touch, obviously wanting to lose the contact as little as Dean did, and Dean allowed himself to glance at him. He was taken aback by what he saw: complete trust and absolute commitment.

Sam was Dean’s.

And it was nothing new.

Just Dean had been too blind to notice.

He felt heat in his cheeks, and he cast his look down, pulling away finally. Sam let him, staying silent this time. However, Dean could feel his curious eyes on himself. He put the car in first gear, not looking back, and pulled on the road again.

They both were quiet, Sam too afraid to ask out loud what he wanted to know, and Dean not wanting to answer that question and having to admit that maybe he was screwed as much as Sam.

Such things belonged under the dark veil of the night…

*

Another town, another motel room. Sam threw his things on one of the beds and yawned. After Dean fed him well in the local restaurant and Sam didn’t make a fuss when another bitch tried her luck on Dean with her sugar-sweet smile that made Sam sick, the younger Winchester considered this day to be quite successful. He still didn’t go through the fact that Dean kissed him (twice!), but whenever he thought about it, he was grinning like a loon, feeling warm and nice… Loved. And finally at home. Every negative emotion was melting under the layer of happiness and when his eyes met Dean’s, his brother held the look for a second longer than it was appropriate and it told Sam everything he needed to know.

“I think I’ll turn in,” he said and squinted at the bed longingly. Dean stood by his side and gave him an uncertain look, but then he threw his own bag on Sam’s bed and glanced at his brother to make sure Sam got the message. Sam followed Dean’s look to the other bed. The timid expression didn’t leave his brother’s face, but Dean looked sure about what he was doing. Sam couldn’t help a quiet happy purr. He smiled and nodded. Dean breathed a sigh of relief and took off his shirt and jeans, Sam following his example.

They got to bed, Dean turning his back to Sam immediately (probably to hide his embarrassment) and Sam pressed to him right away, putting his one arm around Dean’s waist, his fingers splayed over his brother’s stomach. He hooked his one leg with Dean’s and when Dean didn’t react, Sam nuzzled the nape of his neck and delivered there a small kiss. Dean exhaled slowly, relaxing against Sam’s chest.

 _Mine,_ Sam thought contentedly, but… he still needed to ask:

“Why?” he whispered into Dean’s ear.

Dean shrugged. “The same as you.”

“You wanted this?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

It wasn’t good enough of an answer for Sam. “You _guess_?”

“Sammy, I was supposed to protect you, not to screw you.” There was a great amount of patience in the tone, so untypical for Sam’s big brother.

“I’ve been screwed for a long time already,” Sam whispered against Dean’s neck.

“But I didn’t know that.” Sam didn’t need to see Dean’s face to know his brother was smiling.

“Are you trying to say that I’m to be blamed?”

“Yep. Everything’s your fault. Bitch.”

Sam chuckled. “Jerk.” He nuzzled Dean’s cheek. “Love you.”

Dean huffed into the pillow. “Sleep, Sam.”

“Nuh-uh. Not yet.” He pressed to Dean tighter. “I told you about Purgatory last night, now you tell me about the deal you made to get me from there.”

“Jesus Christ, Sam! Sleep.” Dean’s patience was over, but Sam didn’t want to give up so early.

“Please.”

“Sammy.” The tone of Dean’s voice was strict, not allowing any objection.

“Dean,” Sam whined. “I need to know.”

Dean rolled on his back slowly, looking at Sam bending over him. “Why?” he asked, his eyes oddly glittering.

“Because I can’t protect you if I don’t know from what.” Sam’s hand came to Dean’s cheek and caressed, but Dean didn’t respond to it at all.

“There’s nothing you should protect me from,” Sam’s brother said in a quiet but firm tone.

Sam’s hand slid down from Dean’s cheek to his chest. It stopped where Sam could feel the heart beating and it was so nice and fascinating… He put his head on Dean’s chest and listened to the regular rhythm, to the life being pumped into that strong body of his brother. He couldn’t stand the thought that the life would spill out from the veins with Dean’s blood one day just because the idiot wanted Sam to carry on with his cursed existence.

“What did you offer in exchange for my life?” he demanded, hearing Dean’s sigh and then there was an arm folded around his shoulders.

“Sammy, please. Can’t you let it go?”

“No. I want to know the price. I’m sick of thinking about you giving your life away just so that I could trouble the world a bit longer. That’s unfair, Dean, and you know it. You don’t want to let me go, but I don’t want to be without you either.”

Dean sighed and Sam could hear all the pain and hurt in it.

“Tell me. I have a damn right to know.”

“Sammy…”

Sam raised his head and looked Dean in the eyes. “You brought me back twice and you paid. The first time was bad enough and I don’t want to go through that again. I’ll go crazy if I lose you like that ever again.”

Dean pushed Sam away and turned his back on him. Sam let him, knowing his words got to Dean and Dean needed some time for himself now. Sam could see the inner fight in the tension of Dean’s shoulders, in the quickened rhythm of his breathing. He pulled away, waiting.

“Death said your time on the Earth was over,” Dean said finally, “but he offered me to give you some of my time I still had. You got an exact half, so… when I die, you’ll die as well.”

Sam held his breath, not knowing what to say, so he just took Dean in his arms, hiding his face in the crook of Dean’s neck.

“I’m sorry, Sammy. I couldn’t leave you there,” Dean whispered, his voice sounding broken.

“It’s okay, Dean, it’s okay.” Sam held Dean in a tight hug, kissing his neck soothingly. “How much time do we have?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t want to say.”

“Okay. It’s fine, Dean. Really…”

He could hear a silent sniff and then Dean turned to him again, pushing against Sam’s chest and making him lie down.

This time it was Dean cuddling to Sam. His head was resting on Sam’s shoulder and his arm was spread across Sam’s chest. It took Sam some time to get what was happening, but then he hugged Dean and pressed a small kiss into his hair.

“I love you very, very, very much,” he whispered.

“Shut up, sweettalker. You’re not in Purgatory anymore,” it was a growl, but there was no true anger in it. Sam smiled into Dean’s hair, but said nothing more.

When his consciousness was already balancing on the verge of sleep, he had a feeling he heard a quiet whisper “I love you too”. 


	7. Bright Side of the Dark Moon

Instead of pulling away when he woke up in the morning, Sam snuggled closer to his brother, spooning him, and nuzzled the nape of Dean’s neck, breathing in his lovely scent. Sam’s inner demons had been sleeping since he had returned from Purgatory and allowed him to enjoy such moments with no regrets. Not that he could act in a different way… Purgatory left a deep imprint in his soul and if it had been hard before to keep his hands to himself and not to whisper confessions into his brother’s ear, it was ten times harder now. The urge to claim Dean his and cherish him for the rest of their lives was like burning oil being pumped by his treacherous heart into his veins and the blood transferred it into the every cell of his body. The desire to make Dean his and to belong to him in return became a need.

Sam pressed a tiny kiss on Dean’s warm skin, happy that while his demons were sleeping, he could control his longing and prevent himself from turning the tender kiss into something greedy and violent. He didn’t know how much time he still had, but he knew the moment of awakening was close, and he would have to fight to maintain his gentleness as long as he was be able to. Not hurting Dean was his highest priority and he was determined to do anything to keep his brother safe – even to run away again if there wasn’t any other way. He hoped Dean would understand…

But Sam didn’t want to worry about all of that right now when he was so happy and full of life. He grinned and his lips moved to Dean’s ear slowly to press a tiny kiss there.

“Sammy,” Dean mumbled. “Wanna sleep.”

Sam chuckled. “Don’t mind me.” His tongue touched the sensitive skin under Dean’s ear and followed the path down to his neck.

“I’d love to not mind you, but you’re making it kind of difficult. Can you stop?”

“Nuh-uh.” Sam’s fingers touched his brother’s shoulder lightly and started sliding down Dean’s arm. Meanwhile his mouth was pressed to Dean’s neck, kissing tenderly.

Dean shivered. “Sam.” His tone was a warning for Sam to finally stop. Frozen with his lips still pressed to Dean’s neck and his hand resting motionless on Dean’s arm, he was waiting for his brother’s next reaction.

Dean breathed in. He sat up, making Sam pull away. Sam fell back in the sheets, watching Dean and sniffing the air, trying to find out whether he had done something wrong or just Dean wasn’t in the right mood.

Dean stood up and walked into the bathroom without giving Sam a single look. Sam curled up under his comforter, feeling stupid for having expected Dean to not mind. Dean had never been a touchy-feely type and Sam occupying his personal space and showing his affection so openly was surely making him feel awkward.

Sam sighed and buried his nose into the pillow, breathing in Dean’s faint scent captured in the sheets.

*

Dean closed the door behind himself and looked into the mirror. Big green eyes were staring at him, uncertainty reflecting in them and scaring Dean more than he would have expected. Things looked different under the veil of night from what they looked like in bright daylight. What he did at night was just a memory, blunt on the edges and as fluttering as a dream, but things done during a day were just too real to stay overlooked.

Just like the kiss he gave Sam the day before.

He was damned, but he _liked_ it. The kiss felt more right than any kiss he had shared with all the women that had stepped into his life, it was more intense, more sincere… more real.

Dean knew what he felt. The feeling was very much the same as ever, the only difference was that he knew now in which box it belonged to. Nevertheless, despite that knowledge he couldn’t stop wondering that if it had been him ending up in Purgatory and coming back, whether he would have been all over his brother as well. Any time he looked into Sam’s eyes he could see old emotions that he had thought had disappeared for good coming out with such intensity that it scared Dean shitless. How much could he give Sam and not to end up consumed by his affection? Where was the border between still safe and already destructive? It was impossible for Sam to see the line, so it was Dean’s task to find it and make sure they wouldn’t cross it. He needed tactics, a plan to keep the things under control. To keep them both safe… and sane.

He took a quick shower and returned into the room, finding Sam asleep in their bed.

_Our bed._

Dean was watching his brother for some time. Sam looked so innocent and vulnerable in his sleep. The sight always made Dean’s chest burn with the desire to protect him even when Sam was a big boy and could take care of himself.

_Our bed._

Probably this was still within the borders. Just two brothers sharing one bed and looking for comfort in each other’s presence. Dean needed to feel his brother close as much as Sam needed him, so sleeping in the same bed classified as safe. It was a way to keep their sanity. It was a need. So it was surely okay.

Dean came up to the bed and lay down, careful that he didn’t wake up Sam. His brother snuggled to him immediately, burying his nose in his favorite place and breathing in Dean’s scent. _The bitch is addicted…_

It took Sam almost an hour to finally open his eyes. He pulled away from Dean right away, looking confused, and Dean’s heart ached to see what he had caused with his morning escape from the bed. He wanted to say he was sorry, but what came out of his mouth was something totally different.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, feeling actually safer if he avoided mentioning those things.

“Um… yeah,” Sam muttered into the pillow, watching Dean warily. It really hurt seeing him this unsure.

“What would you like to eat?” Dean rolled on his side, looking into Sam’s eyes wide open.

“Anything. With… meat,” Sam said shyly. He obviously still felt ashamed for the direction in which his tastes had changed.

“Without veggies?”

“Without veggies.”

“Good. Wait here, I’ll bring you something,” Dean said in a soft tone, and Sam nodded his head slightly, still watching his big brother with those wary eyes. Dean wanted to take as much as he could from that uncertainty. “Sammy,” he said gently and pulled closer to give Sam a small kiss on the cheek. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be back soon,” he said not because he expected Sam to leave the room, but to find a reason, other than the kiss, to come so close.

He stood up and put on his jacket. Before he left the room he glanced at Sam still lying in their (!) bed. His brother looked more relaxed than a while ago and Dean couldn’t prevent himself from smiling.  

*

The next four days were awesome. Dean decided it was okay to have a few days off and Sam didn’t seem to mind. They spent the time just lazing around, trying to learn as much as they could about the new course their relationship took, and Dean realized he could live without flirting with girls quite easily if there were Sam’s eyes looking at him not with the hunger the girls’ looks were so full of but with adoration and absolute devotion. Dean liked that. Much more than he was willing to admit. He could even live without sex. Feeling Sam’s breath on his neck when they got to bed at night, his hands holding Dean in tight embrace, and Sam’s chest pressed to his big brother’s back were making Dean more relaxed than any other company in any other bed. Dean loved those new sleeping arrangements (but he would rather have died than admitted it aloud).

Another revelation was about Sam. Sam was afraid to display his affection during a day, knowing Dean wouldn’t appreciate it much. But sometimes he couldn’t help himself, he simply invaded Dean’s personal space, brushing his brother’s cheek quickly with his big but gentle fingers, and then got away from Dean’s reach as fast as possible. Sometimes he came to give Dean a quick kiss, totally taking his brother by surprise the first time he did it, but when it repeated a few times, Dean simply got used to it and let Sam do whatever he wanted as long as it wasn’t in public.

Public places were another chapter of the story. Sam never let his guard down, sniffing the air, looking around, and scowling at others occasionally if he thought they were too friendly (with Dean) or weren’t friendly at all. But in general, Dean must have admitted that Sam was behaving. He was just overly hungry and Dean was already dreading the moment Sam would tell him he needed to go for a hunt.

The first four mornings went by without any of Sam’s displays of affection (and Dean regretted that a bit), but before Dean even had a chance to get up, breakfast and coffee were already waiting for him. The hugging and kissing thing came later, mostly in the afternoon, probably because Sam already started feeling the deficit of Dean’s presence in his personal space. Once Dean got used to Sam’s occasional attacks, he felt oddly disappointed when Sam was gone again, minding whatever he managed to occupy himself with.

In the evening of the fourth day while Dean was checking something on the web, Sam wound his arms around his brother from behind and nuzzled his neck. Before he had a chance to let go and run away as usual, Dean grabbed Sam’s arms, holding them in the place. He heard Sam gasp into his ear in surprise. Dean turned his head slightly and his lips brushed Sam’s cheek. Sam tensed, but when Dean’s hand stroked his arm lightly, he finally relaxed and purred contentedly. Dean smiled and let go of Sam’s arms still wound around his shoulders.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked, his voice quiet and husky. His hot breath tickled Dean’s ear.   

“Just checking some things.”

“What things?”

“About werewolves,” Dean said in a tone as if he was just commenting weather.

Sam rearranged his arms around Dean’s shoulders. “Found something interesting?”

Dean sighed. “No, nothing.”

Sam nuzzled his neck. “Come to bed.”

“I’ll come in a while.” Dean’s hand stroked Sam’s forearm again.

“Okay.”

Dean felt a light kiss on the nape of his neck and then Sam’s mouth and arms were gone and Dean’s brother headed right to bed. Dean smiled as he saw Sam’s contentment. He seemed peaceful and untroubled by the darkness within him, and Dean thought that if this little happiness could last forever what a great thing it would have been. He could live like this. Dammit! He wanted to live like this till the end of their days. How many of them were still in front of them? He turned off the computer and joined Sam in the bed. The strong arms were around him immediately and Dean relaxed into the warm embrace.

“Love you,” he heard soft words whispered against his skin and he had to smile.

“I know,” he managed to say before sleep claimed him.

In the morning of the fifth day he was woken up by kisses that were more urgent and needy than gentle.

“Dean…” Sam sighed into his brother’s ear, and it sounded like a plea.

Dean rolled on his back and looked at Sam sleepily. “What’s up?”

Sam gave a quiet whine and sank on Dean’s chest, hiding his face in his favorite place. Dean was perplexed, but he didn’t ask anything, just rubbed Sam’s back soothingly. A few minutes had passed until Sam finally moved. He sat up and grabbed his jeans discarded on the other bed and pulled them on.

Dean sat up and rubbed his still sleepy eyes. “What’s the matter, Sammy?”

“I’m going to bring breakfast,” Sam replied as he put on his plaid shirt and reached for the jacket.

“Are you okay?” Dean gave him a scrutinizing look.

Sam smiled and bent to Dean. “Absolutely.” He gave Dean one of his brief kisses and disappeared behind the door of their room.

Dean sighed and threw himself back in the sheets still warm and remembering Sam’s presence.

*

At the begging of the fifth day Sam felt the peace was gone and not even a bigger portion of food could silence the awakening hunger. When his lips touched Dean’s neck in the morning, feeling the life pulsing right under the thin layer of skin, his vision went bloody red for a moment and he wanted to grab, to have, to taste… It freaked him out and probably that helped, because it was over soon and Sam could concentrate on Dean’s beautiful body scent, always so calming. He pulled himself together and went to take care of his usual morning task.

They didn’t leave the town that day either. Sam didn’t ask why and Dean looked quite satisfied with their newly developed daily routine. Sam liked it, especially when he could wrap his arms around Dean or kiss him. It always felt so natural, so right, and the wolf within him purred contentedly and went to sleep again.

But not today. Today he needed more than a hug or a kiss. He was restless, hungry, and Sam knew that if he wanted to keep this lifestyle, he needed to feed him. They were lazing around for too long, anyway, and it was time for a hunt again.

After they ate breakfast, Sam started looking for a case on the web. Dean watched him and Sam could notice worry in Dean’s eyes.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked, pulling his chair closer to Sam’s and glancing at the computer screen.

“Looking for a hunt.”

Dean gave him a long, scrutinizing look. “Do you need to rip something?” he asked after a while. His voice trembled a bit, making Sam turn away from the screen and look at his brother.

“Not right now,” he said, knowing it wasn’t completely true. “But I will. Soon. I’m sorry.”

Dean ran his hand over his face and sighed. “Shoulda known this was coming, right?” He stood up from the table. “We’re leaving.” He went to the bed on which was lying most of their things and started packing.

“Right now?” Sam asked incredulously.

Dean nodded. “Right now.”

“Oh… fine,” Sam capitulated without a fight. In fact, he didn’t care where they were as long as they were together. He sneaked to Dean from behind and wrapped his arms round him. Dean winced, obviously not expecting him, but then he relaxed, leaning against Sam’s chest.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing.” Sam nuzzled Dean’s neck and breathed in his scent. The wolf within him purred, but didn’t want to go to sleep. “Where are we going?”

Dean shrugged. “I thought about some place where you can play with grizzlies.”

Sam felt a loop tightening around his heart. “You know that grizzlies won’t be enough eventually…”

Dean stiffened in his arms and Sam knew that his brother was very well aware of that fact.

“I won’t let you near to any demon bitch,” Dean said silently, but firmly.

“I know. But you’ll have to find a way to keep me back. Especially at night.”

“Are you giving up?” Dean asked, a trace of fury in his voice. He tried to free himself from Sam’s arms, but Sam was holding him tight.

“No,” Sam whispered into the soft skin of Dean’s neck. “But the calling of the darkness inside me will be getting stronger. I just wanted to warn you.” He took a deep breath. “I’m not going to stop fighting as long as there is a bit of sanity within me,” he promised.

“Good,” Dean said in a milder tone. “Now pack.”

Sam delivered a small kiss on Dean’s neck before he let him go finally. 

*

Dean knew that those few days were too good to last forever. Sam’s werewolf self was awakening and it was Dean’s task to help him keep the wolf under control as long as possible.

He got Sam in the car and drove away from the town where they spent if not the happiest than surely the most peaceful time of their cursed lives. Sam was silent and the tension in his body was more than visible. Dean wanted to help him relax, but he really had no idea what to say, so he just reached for Sam’s hand and placed it on his own thigh. Sam looked at him. Dean smiled and winked, and Sam returned the smile, the tension in his body slowly fading.

Dean moved his attention back to the road leading them to some other town, some other motel room, and he knew that things were going to be different there. But whatever was going to happen, the memories of the last four days would stay burned into their minds. They shared the same little secret and judging from Sam’s smile he assumed that they had created an important memory for both of them.

The hand on Dean’s thigh was warm and the touch gentle, but when it was still there even after two hours of the ride, Dean realized with stabbing intensity that whatever took Sam’s peace away, it was still present and the contact was just a way to keep it under control. He felt the urge to take Sam’s hand in his and kiss it, say the words of assurance that he would never allow anyone and anything to hurt Sam, he would never stop fighting for him and would do anything possible to free him from the darkness inside him. _I’ll protect you, Sammy. I will always protect you._

However, he didn’t pull Sam’s hand to his lips and didn’t say anything of those things. He kept driving and Sam kept staring out from the window on his side of the car, but the hand was still there and it didn’t leave Dean’s thigh until they stopped in another town.

*

Sam didn’t show any sign of restlessness for the rest of the day. They rented a room in a cheap motel, not knowing yet how long they were going to stay. Things were pretty similar to the routine they had developed in the previous town: they were hanging out together, had a meal in the local diner (this time the waitress serving them their food had eyes for Sam for change and Dean was the one not being okay with it, but Sam didn’t seem to notice the girl’s attempts to catch his attention – to Dean’s pure delight), and when they returned to the room in the evening, they spent some time watching some crappy TV show (or Dean did, because Sam snuggled to him with his nose buried in Dean’s neck and breathing him – the bitch obviously had a new hobby), and when they felt sleepy enough to go to bed, Dean turned off the TV and settled comfortably in Sam’s arms.

He was woken up by a movement by his side and opened his eyes to see Sam leaving the bed. His brother came up to the window and looked out at the moon; a shiver ran down his body.

“Sam?”

Sam turned away from the window and looked at Dean, the glitter in his eyes talking about inward fight. Dean sat up, fully awake himself. Sam lowered his head, looking at Dean from under his long bangs and he reminded Dean of a dog afraid of its master’s anger. If Sam had a reason for guilt, then there was something wrong.

“Hungry?” Dean asked and stood up.

Sam made a step to the wall behind his back and the gesture itself was full of uncertainty and unspoken fears. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Dean made a careful step towards his brother in an attempt to diminish the distance between them. Firstly, he needed to assure Sam that he wasn’t angry with him and there was nothing to apologize for. Secondly, he needed to find something that would keep Sam in the room. If there was nothing, he would have to take him far away from the town and let him out into the wilderness.

“It’s okay, Sammy,” he said in a placatory tone and stretched out his hand towards Sam. “Come to me.”

Sam looked at the hand, an obvious invitation, and he made a hesitant step in Dean’s direction.

“Don’t worry, Sam, I’m not angry. Come to me.”

Sam lifted his hand and put it into Dean’s cautiously, and Dean captured it in his grip. Gently, he pulled Sam closer, and his brother obeyed; the fear still visible in his eyes.

“It’s okay, Sam,” Dean said in a quiet, soothing tone, and his other hand ran through Sam’s untidy mane. Sam breathed out a sigh of relief and allowed Dean to decrease the distance even more. Dean’s hand slid to Sam’s neck and pulled him close. The hazel eyes, dark in the late night hour, were staring at Dean, wide and confused. And then, Dean’s lips were pressed to Sam’s, his tongue looking for a possibility to get into the depth of Sam’s mouth. Sam breathed in, but otherwise stayed absolutely uncooperative. Dean forced his way through the gap between Sam’s lips and touched Sam’s tongue timidly. It finally woke Sam up from his trance and he returned the hesitant stroke.

Dean held Sam firmly, not allowing him to escape, however it seemed it wasn’t necessary anymore. Sam wound his free arm around Dean’s waist and pressed him close, turning the kiss into something greedier… something hotter. Sam’s lips, so needy and so soft, were robbing Dean of the last bits of his sanity. He realized he needed this maybe as much as Sam did.

The kiss turned into something between a battle whose mouth would be invaded and something totally exciting and full of emotions. Dean didn’t know how Sam was doing it, but he felt like the only important thing in Sam’s whole universe, the only thing in the entire world that was worth protecting, the oxygen for Sam’s lungs, the water for his dry throat, the food to sate his hunger – everything Sam needed was embodied in Dean and Dean wanted to give him his everything to bring Sam’s peace back. If he couldn’t do it, then no one could.

He broke the kiss to get some air in his lungs, and Sam was there again, demanding more of Dean’s taste, more of his touch… more of him altogether. Dean pulled him to the bed and Sam followed him, not willing to part from him. They sank in the sheets, Sam on top of Dean, still hungry for his brother’s mouth.

Sam was gentle in his clumsy way. He was careful not to hurt Dean, but on the other hand, sometimes he forgot about his strength and grabbed Dean’s arms firmer than he intended to, making Dean gasp, and his big brother knew there would be bruises later. Or he pressed Dean harder into the mattress, knocking the wind out of him, but Dean could put up with all of that. It was for Sam and that was what mattered.

Slowly, step by step, the hungry kisses were turning into gentle ones and Sam’s self-control was back in game again. He licked Dean’s lower lip and sucked on it gently before he pressed the last kiss on his brother’s swollen mouth, tender and soothing and full of love.

“Better?” Dean asked when the kiss was over, but the heaviness of Sam’s body was still pushing him into the mattress.

“Much,” Sam breathed out, and there was so much relief in that one word that Dean had to smile even though there was nothing funny about it. Sam’s hunger was just awakening, and if a few hot kisses could calm him down, what would he need later when the wolf within him would be fully awake?

 _Kill or fuck._ The cold words resonated in his mind, killing all the last bits of excitement still circulating in his veins. He put an arm around Sam’s shoulders protectively and his brother snuggled to him, putting his head on Dean’s chest and tangling his fingers into the soft fabric of Dean’s T-shirt.

“Dean?” Sam’s quiet voice sounded into the silence of the dark room.

“Yes?”

“Do you remember the Thanksgiving Day when I was eleven and you fifteen? It was my first normal Thanksgiving…”

Dean stiffened. “You mean the one I could see as your happy memory in Heaven?”

“Yeah, that one. Dad took you for your first real hunt. You couldn’t wait,” Sam said, playing with the fabric of Dean’s T-shirt captured in his hand. “He left me with that family. I liked having Thanksgiving as any normal kid.”

“Yeah, you liked normal things in general…” Dean said blankly. He didn’t get why Sam was talking about this. Right now. With him.

“I nicked some food from the dinner. You were supposed to return till the night, so I hoped I could have a Thanksgiving dinner with you too when you came back. I was looking forward to your chatter about the hunt and I wanted to tell you how great it was to have a real Thanksgiving dinner. It was an awesome day, I really enjoyed it,” Sam said and sighed, “at least until the moment I was told that you and Dad were not coming that night because you had been injured and had to stay in hospital, and Dad was staying with you meanwhile. I was waiting three more days for you two to come for me.”

Dean gazed at the dark ceiling. “Why are you telling me all of this?”

Sam shrugged. “It feels important.” He raised his head and looked at Dean. “We should do that once. Celebrate the Thanksgiving Day as normal people do.”

Dean huffed. “You just wanna eat the turkey.”

Sam nuzzled his neck. “With you,” he whispered, sending pleasant warmth down Dean’s body.

“All right, we can do that,” Dean capitulated, earning a soft, happy kiss from Sam, and he couldn’t help himself but to feel happy as well.

*

Sam was calm the next day. The wolf went back to sleep, nevertheless it was a light sleep and the monster could wake up any moment, wanting more than before. Sam knew that the wolf was going to be more aggressive, more demanding, and it was freaking him out.

They checked out from the motel, Dean grinning and saying something about grizzlies to which Sam didn’t pay much attention. Whenever he looked at Dean he felt disgust with himself. Dean had no idea what he was doing here. Once the wolf tasted the sweetness of the fulfilled desire, it would want to sate this kind of hunger as well. The problem was that if someone could bring back peace into Sam’s restless soul scarred by Purgatory, it was his big brother. It was like two sides of one coin: on one hand, Dean’s gentle hands were bringing peace and keeping him focused, on the other hand, they were making the wolf see a new path to sating his hunger. What happened last night was just the beginning of something dark. Sam would have been able to fight it if only Dean hadn’t been okay with it. He wanted to tell Dean a few times to stop, but he wasn’t sure how the wolf would have reacted. Sam felt trapped. He couldn’t stop, but was too afraid to carry on. 

He was staring out from the window and contemplating all possibilities, thinking even about running away, but coming to the result that it would have been a bad idea. He needed Dean there to stop him from specific hunts. Probably that was also the reason why they hadn’t been hunting since he had returned from Purgatory.

Dean broke the silence suddenly, bringing Sam back to reality. “Where did you want to go when you ran away?”

Sam winced. “Why?”

“Just curious,” Dean said, glancing at Sam.

Sam shrugged. “To Canadian forests.”

Dean nodded. “Forests…” He sped up. “Well… What would you say if we spent some time in the cottage where we were staying with Bobby while my broken leg was healing? The town’s not far, so the food won’t be a problem, and there are forests for you…”

Sam stayed quiet for a while, thinking about the suggestion. It didn’t sound bad. “We could stay there for some time,” he said.

Dean smiled. “Great.”

“Dean,” Sam addressed him quietly. “We won’t be able to stay there when the bears start to be not enough.”

Their eyes met for a moment.

“We’ll solve that later,” Dean said and stepped on the gas.

*

Sam experienced a strong feeling of déja vu when he stepped into the cottage. Looking around, sniffing the air and making sure everything was all right, he was standing in the center of the single room until he decided to have a closer look at some things. He found empty cupboards in the kitchenette and some rotting leftovers (he was sure they were Dean’s)   from the last time they were staying there. Meanwhile his brother brought their things in, not bitching about Sam not helping as he would have done normally. This wasn’t a normal situation even for Winchesters.

“Everything’s okay?” Dean asked before he flopped on the only couch in the room.

“Yeah,” Sam said, opening windows to get some fresh air into the house.

“We need supplies. I’ll go to the town to do the shopping. Can I leave you here alone?”

Sam snorted. “I’m not a kid, I can be alone for a few hours.”

“I hope I’ll be back much sooner,” Dean said and stood up. “Shall I bring you something special?”

Sam smiled. “Bring yourself.”

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Sap.”

*

Dean didn’t tell Sam what his true plan was. He wanted to settle (or at least to stay in one place as long as the circumstances would allow) and to give Sam as much normalcy as possible considering the current situation. It didn’t mean he didn’t care about the cure for Sam or that he wanted to stop hunting. He just wanted to give Sam home, the place where he could return and feel safe. He didn’t know whether he was able to do that, probably he was going to fail because his memories of true home were too faint, but when he thought about Bobby, he could always recall how it felt to be able to return somewhere. If Bobby could give him that feeling, Dean could do that for Sam, too.

The next two days were lazy. Dean was sleeping a lot, feeling like he needed to make up for all the years of the lack of sleep, and Sam was making fun of him for that, but didn’t forget to press a cup of fresh, homemade coffee into his hand every morning (or noon? Probably even afternoon). Dean enjoyed that very much.

The first day Sam didn’t come for a kiss till the evening and after they unfolded the couch and got to bed (there were much less space for the two of them than in queen-size motel beds), Sam snuggled to Dean, demanding a few gentle kisses before he finally fell asleep. The second day, he came for a kiss sooner. Dean called him addicted, but didn’t allow him to run away after the kiss was over. He made Sam sit down on the couch and pushed a book into his hands, and then he sprawled over the couch with his back pressed to Sam’s broad chest, closing his eyes.

“You’re not gonna sleep, are you?” Sam said incredulously.

“Yep, I am,” Dean said with a grin.

“I’m not your teddy bear, jerk.”

“Shut up. You owe me that, bitch. You woke me up freaking soon.” 

“It was half past eleven.”

“Exactly! Too soon to get up.” Dean smirked and settled more comfortably against Sam’s chest.

Sam sighed and folded his one arm around Dean while holding the book in his other hand and started reading.

When Dean woke up a couple of hours later, Sam was almost at the end of the book.

“Was it good?” he asked.

“Not bad,” Sam said, pressing a small kiss in Dean’s hair.

“What was it about?”

“A guy solving riddles and looking for the Grail.”

“Oh… So it was boring,” Dean commented and yawned. “How are you?”

“My body’s stiff if that’s what you wanna know,” Sam said, and Dean could hear amusement under the layer of pretended annoyance.

“You are _so_ delicate, Sammy. Almost like a girl,” Dean teased, but then he got serious. “You know what I meant.”

Sam nuzzled his cheek. “I’m okay.”

“Not hungry?”

“Not right now. I’m fine. Really.”

Dean repositioned his head so that he could look at Sam. “No funny urges?”

Sam sniggered. “Just one.” He plugged Dean’s mouth with his own.

“Hmmm… I think I like this one,” Dean said after Sam pulled away. He licked his lips in order to have more of Sam’s taste. It wasn’t enough. “Can you do that again? Maybe I would be able to tell you for sure.”

Sam chuckled and kissed Dean one more time, making the kiss more sensual. “So?”

Dean nodded in appreciation. “I can live with it.” He grinned.

Sam laughed. “Jerk.”

“Bitch,” Dean responded immediately with a smile despite the whirlwind in his stomach. He didn’t understand how he could live without this. Kissing Sam felt as natural as breathing… and people needed to breathe, otherwise they died.

*

The third day was different. The peace faded away, slowly and unnoticed until it was too late. Sam was bitchy and clumsier than normally, even brutal in some ways. He was losing the control over his strength again, and when he came for a kiss, he grabbed Dean’s wrist painfully, leaving a bruise there. Even his kisses lacked the usual gentleness. Sam felt guilty for causing Dean pain, but it didn’t stop him from bitching even more without a good reason. Once it was Dean leaving an empty bottle on the table or unfinished meal, then it was a tree growing in front of a window and spoiling the view (what view for Christ’s sake?), or the creaking door. Dean rather took the car and went to the town to buy more food (and not hurrying back after he was done), but when he returned, it was just worse. Sam was sulking on the couch and Dean was close to explode with anger. In the end, they solved it in the Winchester way – they didn’t talk to each other for the rest of the evening.

Getting to bed when they were in such a mood was awkward. Eventually, Sam broke the silence (obviously missing the touch), apologizing and cuddling to Dean, who punished Sam with not reacting to his attempts. He turned away from Sam, whose arm found its way around Dean’s waist anyway, and he was kissing Dean’s neck until Dean told him to cut it out. Sam wanted to pull away after that, but Dean held his arm, letting him know he wasn’t mad at him anymore.

“Just sleep, Sam.”

Sam pressed his chest to Dean’s back wordlessly.

*

Sam woke up in the middle of the night to the calling of his stomach burning with the hated hunger for blood. He slid out from the bed and came up to the window, looking out at the perfectly round moon shining above the treetops. The calling became louder. Sam pressed his forehead to the cold glass, watching the moon and the dark forest around the cottage.

He heard a soft rustle of sheets and then the soft “Sammy?” echoed into the silence of the room. Sam didn’t give any sign that he heard. He felt Dean’s look on him – careful and knowing. He closed his eyes and balled his hands into fists, disgusted with himself.

“Sam.” The voice was soft and soothing, but Sam still didn’t move. “Come back to bed.”

“Hungry,” he said the one most hated word, full of blood and pain. He knew Dean would get the context.

The rustle of sheets again and the sound of bare feet on the hard wooden floor. Dean wound his arms around Sam from behind. “It’s okay,” he whispered.

“No, it’s not,” Sam said and turned around, freeing himself from Dean’s embrace.

Dean grabbed his chin, pulling him closer. “It is,” he said strictly and kissed Sam, his tongue sweeping over Sam’s mouth before it slipped in through the gap between his brother’s lips.

Sam felt heat spreading through his body like an all-consuming fire, filling his veins with sinful desire and burning his sanity into ash. He gasped and pushed Dean away, his hands stretched out protectively in front of him. “No…” he said with effort, shaking all over. “No, I can’t.”

Dean’s big, confused eyes were fixed on him, glittering in the silvery light of the moon. He looked so unearthly and pure and strong and healthy… and so fragile altogether. If Sam had accepted what Dean was offering to him right now, it wouldn’t have ended up only with hot kisses in bed. There would have been too much pain and blood and breaking body and soul into small pieces. No, he couldn’t do that…

He pulled off his T-shirt (or more like tore it off) and handed it to Dean. “I can’t,” he repeated and stormed out from the cottage into the night…

*

Dean clutched Sam’s T-shirt in his hand and looked out from the window, seeing just swift shadow of a wolf’s body and a short tail disappearing in the forest.

He could see it, the fear in Sam’s eyes when he pushed Dean away, his self-control telling him not to take and run. Dean couldn’t else but feel proud of his little brother to fight his demons so bravely, but on the other hand, he was worried about him. The more Sam was fighting, the more he was suffering. He was torn between what the wolf inside him wanted, but Sam couldn’t allow him to take, and what he wanted himself, but was afraid of because it was so damn close to the line between still safe and already dangerous.

Sam ran away tonight to keep Dean safe. Ran away to spend his brutal energy so that he could come back without causing any harm. Sam was strong, but he was breaking. Dean needed to do something… to find a way to help him. To bring relief…

He returned to bed, but he couldn’t fall asleep. He was clutching Sam’s T-shirt in his hands, even used it as a pillow and buried his face in it, breathing Sam’s scent.

Dean didn’t sleep at all that night, waiting for Sam’s return.

*

The sun was already high, but there was still no sign of Sam. Dean contemplated taking his shotgun and going to look for his brother when he finally heard a rustle of branches being shoved away from the way of the one coming. Dean stood in the doorway and waited.

Sam appeared among the trees, limping and bleeding from deep wounds on his left arm and thigh. There was a scratch on his cheek, too, but it didn’t seem serious. Sam was frowning and looked more like a beaten dog than the cheerful werewolf that returned from a successful hunt in his previous life.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted him and ran to Sam. “You okay?” he asked and wanted to put Sam’s uninjured arm around his neck to help him into the cottage, but Sam growled something incomprehensible and pulled away. The look of his eyes was wild and angry, good enough for Dean not to try to approach him again. He followed Sam into the house, keeping safe distance between them.

Once inside, Dean took control over the situation. Instead of allowing Sam to go to bed (as the bitch was up to originally), he sent him to shower. Sam was growling his disagreement, obviously arguing, but Dean only needed to pull out the silver chain and play with it a bit and Sam shut up, heading right under the water. After that, Dean helped him to dry his wet skin with a fluffy towel. Then they returned into the room and Dean made Sam sit down in a chair so that he could take care of his injuries. A scar after the deadly silver bullet caught his attention. He looked at Sam, whose eyes were fixed on him and had been watching him the whole time while he was bandaging the wounds, but his brother was silent.

Dean brushed his fingers over the scar tissue. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice breaking.

Sam didn’t respond at all, he was still staring at Dean as though he was from some other planet.

Dean ran his hand to Sam’s cheek. “Where have you been the whole night?” he asked, stroking lightly.

Sam was still perfectly motionless, but the interest his body was showing couldn’t escape Dean’s attention.

“The bear ran away?” Dean went on. He didn’t know why, but he needed Sam to talk to him. “Tell me, Sam. Was the bear too much for you?”

Sam growled and looked away.

“No, Sam. Talk to me,” Dean commanded, and his hand slid down to Sam’s chest.

No response.

“Sammy.” The hand continued to Sam’s stomach.

Sam inhaled and glanced at Dean.

“Tell me what happened,” Dean demanded, his hand inching its way lower.

Sam gave a strangled whine.

“Talk.”

Sam shut his eyes tight and shuddered.

Dean glared and grabbed Sam’s cock. Sam whimpered, staring wide-eyed at Dean. “Sam.”

Sam’s lips parted. His hands curled into fists as if he was trying to keep them to himself.

Dean leaned in and pressed a quick kiss on his brother’s mouth while his hand gave Sam’s cock a few pulls.

Sam shivered, but no sound escaped his throat.

Dean twisted his hand and pulled again, this time harder.

Sam sighed quietly, closing his eyes and tilting his head backwards.

“Good, right? Come on, tell me, Sammy. Tell me it’s good.”

But Sam stayed perfectly silent, his only response were his hips thrusting up into Dean’s hand.

“Damn you,” Dean cursed and started pumping Sam’s cock in a quick, violent rhythm. Sam dug his fingernails into his palms, trembling violently as Dean’s hand was pushing him to the edge, but the bitch didn’t give a freaking sound. He was panting, yes, but that was all, his hips rocking in the rhythm of Dean’s pulls, fast and furious, his orgasm nearing with cosmic speed.

Dean twisted his hand again and Sam gasped, his whole body shuddered. Dean frowned and his hand slid to the base of Sam’s cock, pressing there.

“No, not yet,” he said coldly. “Not unless you talk to me.”

Sam whimpered and stared at Dean with big, scared eyes. The hazel almost gone, innocent blue was gazing at Dean.

“Sammy?”

“D-Dean…” Sam rasped, and it didn’t sound like his own voice at all. It was a whine… a plea of a tortured animal.

Guilt flooded Dean’s mind, strong and stabbing. He couldn’t let Sam balance on the edge, couldn’t force him to talk if he didn’t want to.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” he said, pumping Sam’s cock, giving him what Sam needed.

Sam came into his hand with a silent cry, his body flexed in a graceful arc before it went totally limp. Sam closed his eyes, panting, staying motionless.

“Sammy?” Fear was rising within Dean.

Sam shook his head, avoiding looking at his brother.

“I’m sorry…”

“No,” Sam said in a strange, barking tone. He still didn’t look at Dean.

Dean glanced at his hand dirty with Sam’s come. There were a few drops decorating Sam’s stomach as well. “I’ll bring you a wet towel to clean yourself,” he said and hurried to the bathroom.

He returned in a while. Sam was still sitting in the chair, quiet and waiting. Dean handed him the towel wordlessly and Sam took it, not lifting his head and looking at his brother, and wiped the come from his stomach. He looked broken. Dean wanted to apologize again, to tell Sam how sorry he was for forcing him into something he didn’t want to, but no sound came out from his dry mouth. Dean gave up and walked to the kitchenette, giving Sam privacy. He wanted to make something to eat for Sam; he was surely hungry, successful hunt or not. He wasn’t much better than just heating some ravioli from a can, but it was at least something. He hoped the nice smell would convince Sam to talk to him.

Until the time he was done, Sam was dressed and sitting at the table, waiting for Dean to serve the lunch.

They ate in awkward silence and it didn’t get better even after they finished their meals. Sam didn’t come for his usual hug or kiss; he was keeping his distance from Dean. Dean was pretending he didn’t mind, but in reality he missed Sam in his personal space terribly. He was throwing stealthy looks at him while Sam was reading (understand: having a nap) in a corner with two walls behind his back protecting him from any Dean’s unexpected approach. Dean didn’t start a conversation. He was afraid Sam would understand it as a new attempt to make him speak.

Dean didn’t know what to do. He felt like taking the car and go for a ride (he missed his Impala so much!), but he didn’t want to leave Sam alone, so he spent the day reading the press (two days old) and checking news on the internet. He hoped for a case. Maybe a hunt would help them to overcome this awkward situation.

The day passed in complete silence and the first thing spoken was Dean’s “Let me check your injuries” said to Sam. His brother glanced at him from his book (Dean had the feeling he was reading the same page as five hours ago) and gave a slight nod.

Dean checked the wound on Sam’s arm and after he found out it was closed, he assumed it was the same with the wound on the thigh.

“They’re healing well,” he said. “I’m going to sleep now.”

He didn’t wait for Sam to reply (he didn’t even expect him to) and walked to the bed. He changed into his sleeping suit (which consisted of a T-shirt and sweatpants) and crawled under a warm comforter.

Minutes were passing by and Sam still didn’t join him. Dean sighed into his pillow, trying to fall asleep and not to think about what happened between them.

His mind was already unable to hang on the world around when the bed dipped beside him and he could feel warmth radiating from Sam’s body. _Finally!_

“Dean? Are you sleeping?” sounded a whisper.

Oh, so Sam _could_ speak.

“Hmm…” Dean didn’t feel like opening his mouth anymore.

“I…”

 _Just don’t say you are sorry,_ Dean thought.

“… thank you,” Sam finished.

Dean was fully awake at once. He expected anything, but definitely not this. He turned to Sam, trying to make out his face in the darkness. “For what?”

“For helping me to find my lost self-control.”

“I don’t understand, Sam. What are you talking about?”

“I was losing myself to the wolf inside me, but you brought me back.”

“With… uh… the handjob?” He wasn’t sure whether calling the things with their true names was a good idea, but he was too tired to be ‘political correct’ right now. He heard Sam exhale.   

“Yeah, with the handjob.”

Saying the treacherous word out loud brought them a bit closer. The sheets rustled and Sam’s hand slipped into his big brother’s.

“It freaks me out, Dean,” Sam whispered, his voice oddly strangled.

Dean understood. It wasn’t the handjob itself that freaked Sam out. It was the sheer need for it. He sighed, squeezing Sam’s hand.

“Me too. How do you feel?”

“Better. Much better. Finally calm.”

“That’s good.” Dean shifted closer to Sam. “I missed you, Sammy. I missed you the whole freaking day. Why didn’t you talk to me?”

When he heard the answer, he regretted terribly that he asked. Sam breathed out and whispered in a broken voice:

“I didn’t know how.”   


	8. Howling His Heart Out

Falling back into their daily routine was kind of hesitant, but after they overcame their initial embarrassment, things were good again (if not better). Sam was cheerful and cuddly (sometimes maybe too much) and all over Dean again. It happened more often that while Dean was occupied with something like reading newspaper or surfing on the internet (looking for a hunt appropriate for Sam – meaning no demons involved) or washing dishes or just hanging out, Sam came to him and wrapped his arms around him, looking for closeness. Sometimes he stayed just a moment and sometimes he didn’t let go until Dean finished his activity. He kept sleeping cuddled up to his big brother, but it happened more than once that Dean was woken up by something hard pressed to his hip (or ass if Sam spooned him – and that was a bit unsettling). He always pretended he was either sleeping or didn’t notice in order to prevent an awkward situation.

Sam’s morning woods weren’t the only new thing Dean noticed. Sam’s speech became richer of nonverbal expressions such as growling when he disagreed or wasn’t satisfied, whining when something was wrong, and purring when he was happy. His movements became more careful, and Sam relied more on his ears and nose than his eyes. He could sneak to Dean unnoticed whenever he wanted to and Dean always felt like a freaking prey when Sam did it.

They were kissing a lot lately. The last bits of Dean’s reluctance were gone with the wind and he convinced himself that he was doing it for Sam. Sam didn’t transform since that one time so it was easy for Dean to believe that the occasional kissing sessions they found themselves occupied with pretty often were the right tool to keep the wolf under control. However, Dean wasn’t stupid not to notice Sam’s kisses became greedier, rougher... and lustful. Whenever Sam came for a kiss, there was not trace of innocent blue in his eyes and the kiss lacked all the shyness from before.

Lust and hunger: two sides of the same coin and both were getting stronger.

Lust was driving Sam into Dean’s arms and hunger was driving him away. Sam was Dean’s more than any time before and yet Dean could see and _feel_ how he was losing his little brother to the darkness within him. 

Time was ticking away too loud and Dean found himself torn between the urge to start a frantic chase after the possibly non-existent cure and the will to spend those last moments while Sam could still remember who he was with his little brother and try to clean as much mess that gathered between them throughout the years as possible.

Sam became totally dependent on Dean. It happened more often that Dean caught him staring blankly at nothing in particular, panic reflecting in his handsome face. Sometimes just calling out his name helped to bring him back from wherever he wandered in his mind, and sometimes not even touch was enough. Every time when he finally returned to reality, he looked confused and he retreated within himself, unwilling to talk altogether. Even though Dean hated it, he gave Sam as much time as he needed to find his way back. He tried to make Sam talk to him just once… and found out what a big mistake it was. Sam disappeared in the forest for the rest of the day. Since then, Dean didn’t feel like risking it to happen ever again. When Sam finally got through his fears, he came back to Dean himself (mostly asking for a kiss).

It took Dean some time to find the way to keep Sam focused and not to slip away into the world of darkness where his brother couldn’t follow him. After he learned to read Sam’s reactions and every time he noticed his little brother was only a step from crossing the line, Dean brought up some story from their past. Especially the ones about their childhood were effective. They caught Sam’s attention and made him leave the dangerous area. It wasn’t a rule, though, and if Sam got lost anyway, there was nothing Dean could do but leave Sam alone and wait.

Dean didn’t expect that talking about stupid little things from their past could actually help them to sort some crap between them. Learning about the motivation of each other’s deeds turned out to be the crucial moment on their path of understanding and that brought them closer than Dean had ever allowed himself to hope. He wasn’t an idealist to believe they had been born for each other, but Sam had managed to screw Dean effectively and Dean had screwed Sam in return, and that was why they fitted together perfectly.

The day turned into evening and they were getting ready for bed. Dean was already stretched out under his comforter and waited for Sam to join him. Sam was gone to brush his teeth, but it took him quite a long time, so Dean went to the bathroom to check on him. Sam was standing in front of the washbasin with the toothbrush in his hand, staring at it as though he didn’t know what it was for. Dean knew that look. Sam was still there, but his consciousness was slowly slipping away into his dark world.

“Sam,” Dean addressed him in a low, but firm voice. “The teeth won’t brush themselves.”

Sam turned to him, but his look was unfocused. The hand holding the brush sank and the toothpaste dripped into the washbasin. Dean needed to find something to talk about while Sam was still listening.

“Forget the teeth, Sammy, and come to bed,” he said in the end. Clean teeth weren’t as important as Sam close and focused. Bed was their fortress – the safest area where they were closest to each other and most intimate. “You can cuddle up to me like an overgrown pup you are,” Dean added with an awkward smile, trying to forget how stupid it sounded.

“Pup?” Sam tilted his head to the side and frowned. Dean nodded and continued in a teasing tone:

“Do you know what kind of a dog do you remind me? You’re as cuddly as a golden retriever. Just like the one you had when you were a kid. Bones, right?” Talking without any real reason but to talk was frustrating. Dean never knew what to say so he always ended up saying the most embarrassing stuff… Dammit, it was as good as saying that he had a burger for lunch. Stupid, awkward, good for nothing… But a broad smile brightened Sam’s face, so it probably wasn’t so bad.

“Bonesie, yeah. He was a good dog. I wanted to keep him.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. Keep, huh? With their Dad and all that moving around the country… “How did you want to manage that?”

“I was trying to come up with a plan.”

“That’s what you were doing the whole two friggin’ weeks? Trying to come up with a plan how to keep a stray dog?”

“I hoped you’d help me.”

“You had a high opinion of me,” Dean grunted. “When I found you, I wanted to kill you.” Sam looked okay now, focused on the reality again, so Dean thought it was safe to return to bed. “Don’t be long,” he said to his idiotic brother and left the bathroom. _Hoped I’d help him. Right…_ He regretted that he brought up that particular thing.

Sam joined him in a few minutes. He snuggled to his big brother, kissing the nape of his neck. Dean didn’t react.

“Dean…” Sam whispered ( _whined_ – if Dean wanted to be precise). “Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad,” Dean growled into the pillow.

“You are.” Sam nuzzled his cheek and used his strength to make Dean roll on his back so that the bitch had a better look at him. “I’m sorry I ran away that time. I had a fight with Dad and I was angry.”

“Do you realize how worried you made us?”

“I do now, but I didn’t then.”

“What was the argument about?” Dean asked, curious.

“It was my birthday and I wanted Dad to stay with us one more day.”

Dean sighed. Saying that Dad was busy would have sounded cheap. “I was there to celebrate with you.”

“Yeah, I had only you.” Sam put his head on Dean’s chest, holding him in place. “But I wanted both of you.”

Dean ran his hand through Sam’s hair. “Dummy. You had neither me nor Dad in the end.”

Sam shrugged. He caressed his brother’s side through the T-shirt Dean wore for the night.

“Why did you think I would help you with the dog?” Dean’s hand rested on Sam’s shoulder.

“I trusted you. I was sure that after you’d cool down you’d help me to find a way to keep Bones and not to have to tell Dad.”

“You knew it wasn’t possible with us moving around.”

“I hoped you could talk Dad into staying in one place for a longer time.”

Dean laughed bitterly. “I couldn’t do miracles.”

Sam breathed out. “I believed you could. You were my personal superhero,” he said lightly.

Dean couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “Bitch.”  

Sam yawned and pressed closer. “Good night, Dean.”

“G’night… puppy.”

Dean laughed again as Sam puffed into his T-shirt and then silence settled in the room.

*

It didn’t happen for the first time that he woke up in the middle of the night, but usually it was enough to breathe his brother’s scent and the wolf inside him calmed down. Not tonight. This time the son of a bitch didn’t want blood. He wanted the man sleeping next to Sam.

Sam whined. He wanted to jump out from the bed and run away from Dean as far as possible, but the wolf didn’t want to allow that. Not unless he got what he wanted.

Sam grabbed Dean’s shoulder and shook with him. “Dean.” He got scared of his own voice. It was a rasp close to a bark of a hellhound and a thought attacked Sam’s mind that probably the thing that bit him was a mutt of a werewolf and a hellhound. Could that be even possible?

Dean groaned, turning to Sam. “What’s up?”

Sam’s eyes widened. He was a night hunter (or the infernal beast within him was) and he could see clearly Dean’s features, his beauty in the faint moonlight penetrating inside through the window, the sleep still holding tight and trying to drag him back into the dreamland. Sam trembled, and if he could call his cock hard before, it was a rock now.

“Dean,” he whined, urgency in his voice. He didn’t shift closer (he was too close anyway), but he wasn’t able to leave the dangerous area. The wolf was driving him into Dean’s arms, trying to defile the most sacred part of Sam’s world.

“Sammy?”

The warmth of Dean’s hand on his cheek was like a stroke of lightning. Sam shivered. His mind went foggy and his resistance became weak. He surrendered to the touch, so loving and so trusting.

“I…” He wanted to warn Dean, but his voice betrayed him. The words turned into a growl and Sam sank on his brother’s body, his hard cock buried in Dean’s soft stomach. He groaned as the first thrust sent sparks of pleasure into his body.

He became a prisoner of his own mind. He didn’t want this, he wanted to fight, but the more he was trying to stop, the more violent his thrusts became. He felt movement under him, Dean was trying to push him away, and Sam wanted to obey, but the wolf didn’t let him. Capturing Sam in the fog knitted from his own sinful desires, the beast took control over him, making him hump Dean’s beautiful, strong body…

He resented himself for feeling pleasure in this act of lust and violence. He was shaking all over with the effort to just stop finally and pull away, but the wolf didn’t want to release him unless he got his prize.

Sam heard Dean’s voice, but he couldn’t make out the words. And then there were hands holding his head and making him look into Dean’s eyes.

“Let go, Sammy,” he heard, but it sounded as though the words were coming from a far distance. He shook his head weakly, and the wolf growled, forcing Sam into an extremely hard thrust. Sam gasped, a sharp pain mixed with pleasure flooding his body, bringing him closer to climax. It was sick and twisted feeling like this. He shut his eyes, doing his best not to vomit all over Dean. His body was still moving in the same rhythm, and the wolf was purring contentedly in Sam’s head.

“Dean,” he whined again.

“Look at me, Sam,” it was a command, but Sam refused to obey. If he looked at Dean now, he would break. “Sam, open your eyes. Now!”

Sam was still reluctant, but Dean was holding his head and not trying to stop him. He breathed in and his eyes met Dean’s.

“Good boy. Let me take care of you,” he heard, not knowing what Dean meant until he felt a touch through the fabric of his boxers. The wolf was as surprised as Sam was and he stopped for a moment, giving Dean a chance to slip his hand into Sam’s underwear and grip his aching cock firmly. Sam’s eyes widened and a quiet moan escaped his dry throat. He felt ashamed for that immediately and rose on his hands, using the moment of the wolf’s surprise.

He wasn’t the only one who used the situation. Dean shoved him hard into the mattress, not allowing him to escape.

“Don’t fight, Sam. It’s okay. I got you.”

The gentle hand stroked his leaking cock, bringing him much more pleasure than the violent humping Dean’s stomach. The fog in Sam’s mind started tearing, giving him the opportunity to feel deeply every touch of Dean’s hand, every stroke, and hear every word.

“Great. Just let go. Come on, Sammy…”

Dean’s mouth was on his, kissing him gently, and Sam couldn’t resist anymore. He took Dean’s face into his hands, kissing him back, putting all his love into it. Dean’s skillful hand was bringing him to the edge. Sam gasped into his brother’s mouth and shuddered as the orgasm washed over him.

“That’s right, Sammy. Come for me, baby,” Dean whispered, and despite the words, there was no mockery in his voice.

Sam was lying motionless in the sheets, spent and sleepy. Dean’s hand was gone, but there was a soft kiss on his cheek and quiet words whispered into his ear that made Sam aware of his brother’s presence. Then Dean got up from the bed, leaving Sam alone in the dark, silent room.

Sam was balancing on the verge of sleep, and he would have fallen into unconsciousness if there hadn’t been that sharp, barking laugh of the wolf. _You’re mine, Sam. You have nowhere to run. Fighting back won’t help you, just will bring you closer to what you’re becoming. You’re mine, Sam. You are me._

“No…” Sam rasped and sat up.

“Sam?” Dean was back with a wet towel. Sam looked at him, his defenses breaking. He needed to get away from Dean in order to restore the walls that the wolf managed to disrupt. He was weak and still getting weaker. He needed time to pull himself together.

He jumped to his feet and stormed out from the cottage into the dark forest.

“Sam! Come back!” he heard, but the words were too distant and too strange for him to understand their meaning.

The forest welcomed him as its beloved child, embraced him with the smell of freedom and life. He was strong and cruel, frightening and… hungry.

Sam stopped for a moment and sniffed the air. A cold smile crooked his lips when the wind brought the smell of young rabbits to him. They were playing under the trees, carefree and unaware of the dangers waiting for them in the darkness.

Sam licked his lips and let the wind lead him to his prey…

*

The more Dean tried to get Sam, the more he was confused. He thought that Sam needed it, needed Dean to help him to relieve the tension and spend the energy, he could hear the plea in Sam’s voice. Was he wrong? Sam was afraid of whatever was happening to him and Dean wasn’t blind not to see his fight. But the more Sam was fighting, the more he was suffering. Sam needed to kill… or fuck – maybe even both, and the more he was trying not to do that, the more torturing it was for him when he lost the fight. Dean wanted to help him tonight, to make him understand that fighting his needs was stupid and not helping anything, that it was driving him insane more than if he let go. Sam could control himself much better when he satisfied his needs, however scary they were. Dean was there to help him as much as he could.

He had found a few cases, but they were all stinking of demons so they weren’t suitable for Sam. Dean kept looking. And finally, while he was waiting for Sam’s return, he found something interesting. If he was right, Sam could sate his hunger with the blood of a shapeshifter.

The sudden creak of the door made him look up from the screen. The gun loaded with silver bullets was lying next to a half-empty bottle of whiskey, but Dean didn’t reach for it.

Sam stood in the doorway, his T-shirt and boxers intact which meant he hadn’t turned, although he was dirty with blood and earth. He didn’t come in. He cast shy glances at Dean from under his long bangs, waiting for only God knew what.

“Sam?” Dean stood up from his chair. “Are you hurt?”

Sam looked at his dirty hands and wiped the blood around his mouth with his forearm. “It’s not my blood,” he said, not moving from the spot.

“That’s good. That’s great,” Dean said with relief. “Whose is it, then?”

“Rabbit’s.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You caught and killed a rabbit?” Okay, Sam WAS much faster than before, but was he really that fast to catch a rabbit while not transformed?

“Three.”

Dean stared. “Excuse me?”

“I caught, killed and ate three rabbits,” Sam said, giving Dean a guilty look.

“You’re kidding me…”

Sam shook his head. “I was hungry,” he said, and when Dean’s quiet “dammit” sounded, he added quickly: “Not hungry like _that_. I was hungry as in I wanted to eat.”  

“You hunted, ripped and ate _three_ rabbits?” Dean asked incredulously. The idea that Sam was hungry, hunted a creature that was supposed to be ten times faster then him, and ate it without any preparation in the very end was unsettling. It meant Sam’s humanity was slowly retreating, making place for his animal instincts. Could he be angry with Sam for that? He was the one who told him to let go, so Sam did. Just… in a different way than Dean hoped.

Was it really so different?

Dean ran his hand over his face in frustration. “Don’t I feed you enough?” he asked as if it was the only problem here. Maybe it was.

Sam raised his head. “What?”

“Don’t I give you enough food? Are you hungry? Do you need more?”

“I…” Sam looked embarrassed, obviously not knowing what to answer.

“It’s okay, Sam. If you need more, just take more.”

Sam bit his lower lip nervously and hung his head again. “It’s not like that, Dean. I don’t need more food.”

“So what is it that you need, Sam?” Dean asked

Sam glanced from under his bangs and when their eyes met, Dean could read the answer burning in them. He looked away, feeling heat in his cheeks.

“Well… I would say you need a shower right now,” he said, breaking the awkward silence. Sam gave a slight nod and finally walked in. He found clean clothes and disappeared in the bathroom. After a couple of minutes Dean could hear the sound of running water.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and tilting his head upwards.

“Please, if you’re up there, help us. Help me to be the man he needs me to be and help him to find his peace.”

The sound of the water faded and Dean opened his eyes. He walked back to the table and reached for the bottle of whiskey. He was gazing at it for some time until he took a long swig.  

If someone had told him that knowing how much Sam needed him would scare crap out of him, he would have laughed and called the one a fool. Sam’s need for his big brother was Dean’s reason to live, but how much of it was he able to bear? It seemed easier to come to terms with Sam’s will to be independent a couple of years ago than with his current need for Dean thousand times stronger than it was normal. Sam needed his big brother in every possible way: he needed Dean’s love and understanding, he needed him as his guardian and a peacebringer, he needed to feel protected and never let down, he needed Dean to be there when the darkness was taking over his consciousness, he needed him when he got up in the morning and went to sleep at night. Sam needed Dean to show him hope. He needed him in order to live.

Sam got out from the bathroom. He looked sleepy and he went right to bed.

Dean put the whiskey away. “How are you?” he asked.

“Tired,” Sam replied and pulled the comforter higher as though he was trying to hide the guilty expression that hadn’t left his face ever since he turned up in the doorway.

Dean came up to the bed and sat down next to his brother. “You’ll be fine,” he said, hoping his voice sounded convincing.

Sam shook his head, not looking at Dean. “I’m turning into a beast,” he said in a strangled tone. “You should’ve left me in Purgatory.”

Dean frowned. “Say that again and I’ll plug your mouth with as much silver as I’ll be able to find.”

Sam winced and finally looked at Dean.

“You hear me,” Dean went on. “I don’t wanna hear that ever again, okay?”

Sam swallowed and nodded. “Okay.”

“Good boy,” Dean said and gave Sam a small smile. “You’ll be all right. I’ll take care of you.” He bent to Sam’s mouth, wanting to kiss him. If words weren’t enough (and Dean had to admit he wasn’t very good with words), he wanted to make the point with his action.

A big hand pushed him back. Scared hazel eyes were fixed on Dean’s face.

“No,” Sam said quietly.

Dean would have felt offended by the rejection if he weren’t looking into a dark pit of fear. He wanted to hug Sam and tell him that he understood and that what happened at night wasn’t his fault. He wanted to tell him that he wasn’t alone in this and whatever drove him to do that, Dean was okay with it. Instead, he put his own hand over Sam’s and holding it tight, he pulled it away from his chest. Sam didn’t try to free his hand from his brother’s grip which Dean considered to be a good sign.

“I’m going to the town,” he said. “We’re out of clean clothes and I’ll buy supplies as well. Do you want something special?” Sam shook his head, so Dean went on. “I may stay longer. We don’t have much money so I’ll try to win some in a game.”

“Poker?” Sam asked, and his eyes softened a little.

“Or pool,” Dean said with a smile.

Sam nodded and his fingers curled around Dean’s hand. “You were drinking.”

_What can I do for you, Sammy? How can I make this better?_

Dean laid his brother’s hand on Sam’s stomach and stood up. He couldn’t bear the look of those sad, guilty eyes anymore.

“I’ll see you later,” he said before he walked out the door.

“Drive safe,” he heard Sam’s reply, but he didn’t turn back.

*

Sam rolled on his stomach and buried his face into the pillow. He was a big guy and big guys didn’t weep like babies. Nonetheless, his eyes were burning and the sheets got wet in no time.

 _Come on, Sam! Pull yourself together!_ He cursed himself for being such a girl. _Dean would laugh if he saw you._

But Dean wasn’t there right now and without him Sam felt completely lost. Dean grounded him, always showed him the way back when Sam’s consciousness was about to slip into darkness. However, his calling was becoming quieter and Sam was afraid that one day he wouldn’t be able to hear Dean at all. Sometimes he realized he didn’t understand a word of what his brother told him and when he wanted to say something himself, he couldn’t remember the words. The wolf’s triumphant howl echoed in his ears and Sam had nowhere to run… to hide.

The wolf was trying to merge with Sam, to make them one. Sam was resisting, but the wolf was getting stronger every day and Sam was already too tired. The wolf promised him peace if only Sam had stopped fighting.

_Let us become one and I’ll give you everything. I can make you happy, Sam. Allow me to take care of you and you’ll be hungry no more. You can have whatever you want. You want Dean? Just take him. There’s nothing wrong about it._

“No,” Sam said firmly, his voice muffled by the pillow. “I won’t allow you to feed on Dean.”

The wolf barked a chuckle. _Then I’ll feed on blood._

Sam shot out from the bed with his hand pressed over his mouth. He stormed into the bathroom. Three rabbits found their way out right into the toilet…

*

Laundry done, food bought, and a few more dollars in his pocket than before he arrived into the town, Dean was stepping in front of shelves with condoms in the local convenience store. Why the hell were there so many types of them?

He decided to give Sam what he needed. If Sam needed a good fuck to stay calm and didn’t want a girl (they smell, right…), then Dean was prepared to give it to him. It still scared the hell out of him. He was an ass-virgin, dammit, and he knew how big Sam’s dick was and he really didn’t feel like being ripped in two by it, but… maybe… a bit of blood would make Sam happy?

He sighed, asking himself whether he was really such a masochist. _You went to Hell for him,_ echoed in his mind. _Well… yes, I did,_ he replied back. It was for Sam. Just like this was for him as well. Sammy was always a strong motivation.

“Okay… What would the princess prefer?”

Dean reached for a box offering strawberry-scented pleasure. _Yeah, good for a girl Sam is._ Dean smirked. Sam hated synthetic scents and Dean was sure he would have hated this one even if he had still been human.

Since Sam’s nose was too sensitive, scented condoms didn’t seem to be a good idea. He put the box back into the shelf and kept looking. Regular shaped condoms, form fit condoms, flared condoms, ribbed condoms, normal and extra thin condoms… One would get a headache.

Another problem: size. Different manufacturers produced different sizes. Dean didn’t think his own manhood was small, but as long as he could compare… Dean looked at his hand, curling the fingers and imaging Sam’s pride in them and then his own… Sam’s cock was still a few inches bigger. General rule: large men had stakes instead of cocks.

Dean frowned. And who the hell said that he was to be bottom? Just because Sam was an overgrown superstrong werewolf, it didn’t make him top automatically!

Dean glared at the shelves loaded with the little boxes. He never gave much thought to the types of condoms he used; he always took what was available. But now he wasn’t even sure what to take for himself. _Curse you, Sam!_

“Do you need help?” he heard a woman’s voice. He looked there, seeing a hot brunette standing by the shelves, a slight, amused smile playing on her lips and a sparkle of mischief in her eyes. Probably she hoped she could make fun of him. And maybe she hoped for something totally different.

Dean returned the smile. “Maybe,” he said confidently.

The brunette raised an eyebrow and the amusement was exchanged by interest. “Well? What can I do for you?”

Dean could distinguish the lascivious shade in the undertone. He had a good ear for such things, trained throughout the years of flirting.

“Do you like role playing games?” he asked, his voice turning deeper. He knew what made women like this one tick.

“Depends,” she said and came closer, “what type of role playing games you mean.”

Dean gave her a confident smile, sizing her up. She had a prefect figure, the curve of her hips was a promise of pleasures a man dreamed of, and her beautiful breasts were peeping out from the plunging neckline of her T-shirt. Delicious, yeah. He could have her; she was literally offering herself to him. He could take the condoms and take her to a one-hour hotel (or just to the toilet, she didn’t seem to be picky) and have fun with her.

“Imagine we switched our roles and you are standing here, choosing the right box. Which one would you take?”

The brunette looked at the shelves and the flirty tone disappeared from her tone. “I would consider whether I would prefer my pleasure to my partners. Everyone likes something else.”

Dean nodded with appreciation. She might have been cheap, but she wasn’t stupid.

“Are you looking for something specific?” she asked. Probably she was a nice girl in general who just hoped for some fun. And dammit! If it hadn’t felt like cheating, Dean would have gone for it. How long had it been since he had had sex for the last time?

He shrugged. “Specific is not the word. I don’t know myself what I’m looking for.” And that was true.

“You want to please someone?”

He laughed. “I’d love to.”

“First time together?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Then I’d go with the tried ones. Hopefully, there would be time for experiments later,” she said and gave him a friendly smile.

Dean returned the smile. “Thanks for advice.” The tried ones… No funny shapes, no ribs, no stupid scents or (God save him!) flavors. Just regular ones. Hopefully, they would work for both of them, even though he could imagine Sam bitching about the smell of latex. Damn him, he’d have to be satisfied with Dean’s choice. No one could say he didn’t try. He was standing here and talking about condoms to a strange woman – that was how far his effort went. For Sam, damn the bitch!

He reached into the shelf for probably the most boring type of condoms and hoped the size would be enough for both of them. Come on! Sam wasn’t THAT big. The condoms would be surely enough…

The brunette watched him. “She’s lucky to have you.”

A sad smile curled Dean’s lips. “I hope so.”

“You seem like an attentive type. That’s quite rare these days, so if she can’t appreciate that, she doesn’t deserve you.”

Dean looked at the woman. Talking about condoms was one thing, but this was the area where he didn’t feel confident.

“Thanks for help,” he said and went to pay for the purchase. The woman didn’t follow him.

Back in the car, Dean pulled out his phone and was staring at it for a long time. He longed for hearing Sam’s voice, no matter how troubled and broken it would have sounded. He wanted to know Sam was there waiting for Dean’s return, not because he needed him back, but because Dean’s presence made him happy. Dean didn’t want to be needed (well, he did, but Sam’s need for him was getting pretty scary lately), he needed to know he was wanted.

He sighed and put the phone back into the pocket of his jacket. Sam didn’t have a phone anyway, and they didn’t get him a new one so far. Obviously, it was time to change that.

*

A nice smell floating around the whole room woke Sam up from a nightmare. He was dreaming about killing a demon and feeding on his blood when the soft sound of sizzling oil reached his ears. The smell of roast beef made his mouth water and he slid from under the comforter and silently walked to Dean fighting with a pan and a few big steaks on it.

“Crap,” Dean cursed quietly when the oil sputtered from the pan, and he jumped backwards, barging into Sam. He hadn’t noticed his little brother sneak behind him and when he turned around abruptly, wanting to step backwards, surprised with the unexpected obstruction, he would have shoved the pan from the stove if Sam hadn’t pulled him back.

“Careful,” Sam said, holding Dean around his waist with one hand and pushed the pan back in the right position with the other. “You okay?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Dean said, glancing at the pan before he looked back at Sam. He didn’t try to free himself from the grip. “You?” It was obvious he wasn’t asking about himself hitting Sam but about the things from before.

“Better,” Sam replied, giving Dean a small, assuring smile. It was right, he felt better. The wolf wasn’t sleeping, but he was quiet at the moment so Sam could concentrate on the small joys the life brought him. He let go of Dean. “What are you doing?” he asked, looking at the meat in the pan.

Dean sighed, making a frustrated face. “I’m trying to make some steaks. Found a recipe on the internet, so I’m testing my cooking skills.”

“They smell delicious,” Sam said, wrapping his arms around his brother from behind while Dean rearranged the steaks on the pan, and nuzzled his neck.

“Yeah, probably. But I’m not sure whether they’ll be edible as well.”

“Why so? They look good.”

Dean chuckled. “From the outside. But I bet they are still raw in the middle.”

Sam giggled into Dean’s ear. “I won’t mind.”

“But I will.”

Sam grinned. “Then I’ll give you the well-done parts and you’ll give me the raw ones.”

“No way! You have to appreciate my culinary skills in their full extend,” Dean said, poking the steaks with a fork.

“Let me help you,” Sam said, letting go of Dean and taking the fork from him.

Dean looked at him doubtfully. “You think you can do better?” He still stepped aside to make some space for Sam by the stove.

Sam gave Dean a mysterious smile and set to work.

In less than half an hour two plates loaded with soft medium steaks and fried potatoes were put on the table.

“Sammy, let me tell you that this is marvelous,” Dean said contentedly as he tried the first bite. “Didn’t know you could do such things.”

Sam smiled. “I didn’t have an opportunity to reveal this extraordinary capability.”

“Liar. How long are we staying here? Four months? Five? You were keeping it secret because you were afraid I would bug you to cook more often.”

Sam laughed. “Will you?”

“Definitely.” Dean grinned.

Sam chuckled and shook his head lightly. “Do you want the potatoes?”

Dean looked up from his plate. “You don’t want them?”

Sam shook his head.

“Give them here, then.”

Sam gave Dean all his potatoes and enjoyed the sight at his brother stuffing himself with the food. He looked happy and untroubled. Sam loved such moments, just two of them finding a flicker of light in the darkness surrounding them. They still could laugh together and that was the most important thing.

Sam loved Dean more than a brother should have loved his brother. He stopped caring whether it was right or wrong long ago, he didn’t have strength to fight the feelings especially after Purgatory made them thousand times stronger. What troubled Sam was the fact that his love was destructive. He could see how Dean’s defenses were slowly falling apart and he knew that Dean was doing it for him. The jerk was always doing such foolish things for him. And Sam couldn’t help himself but feel happy, even though it was perverted happiness. Yet, Dean’s self-sacrifice was also making Sam sad. He didn’t want Dean doing this for Sam as his brother whom he was supposed to protect because it was his job. He wanted Dean to do it because he _could_ love Sam even in this twisted way. Sam had a brother – and he was happy about that, really was – but he also wanted a lover. Out of Dean’s own free will.  

“Sammy,” the soft voice interrupted the flow of his sinful thoughts, and Sam raised his eyes from his plate. “You with me?”

“Yeah, sorry, I got lost in my thought,” he said and smiled. Dean’s face took a pinkish shade and his freckles became more visible.

“Er…” Dean coughed. “I… found us a job.”

That caught Sam’s attention. “What?”

“I found a case. It looks like a shapeshifter is troubling a town in South Dakota. One bank and two jewelries were robbed in three weeks, all by their staff members.”

“Huh, sounds suspicious.”

“Exactly.”

Sam grinned. “Does it mean we’re working a case?”

“We’re working a case,” Dean grinned back and put a potato into his mouth. “Mmm, delicious!”   

Sam laughed, and hell, that felt good!

*

Sam went to sleep with a good feeling. Finally, he could do something useful again. He understood that Dean had brought him here because he wanted to keep him away from any trouble, but bears started being not enough and if he could rid the town of the monster, he couldn’t wait. Okay, it was the wolf that was all beside himself with joy. Sam was pretty satisfied with the ordinariness of their current life (as far as it was possible to call it ordinary in their case), but he felt like a burden just waiting for the final blow, and now there was something he could do. He could help. He could do what he was good at.

When he cuddled up to his brother in their bed, he could feel also Dean’s excitement. The morning seemed to be so far…

They both were awake till the late night hour, not talking and not moving. Sam’s head was resting on Dean’s chest and Dean’s arm was folded around his shoulders. It was one of their usual positions. Sam was listening to the beating of Dean’s heart singing a lullaby about life, and usually it put Sam to sleep. Not tonight. The words were a bit different this time, so Sam knew Dean was awake. He raised his head.

Dean’s hand found its way into Sam’s hair, removing the strands falling into Sam’s eyes behind his ear. “Thought you were asleep.”

“Knew you were awake,” Sam replied, bending lower to Dean’s face.

“What betrayed me?” Dean’s fingers curled in Sam’s untidy mane.

Sam breathed in Dean’s body scent. So nice, so exciting… “Your heart’s beating faster. And your breathing says that, too.” He smiled, even though he knew Dean couldn’t see him. As a werewolf, Sam had an advantage here.

“It’s your fault,” Dean said, amusement audible in his undertone. “You’re freaking heavy and you’re making breathing harder. So yeah, it _is_ faster, bitch.”

Sam bent so low to Dean’s face that he could breathe the air his brother exhaled. “I can make you breathless,” he whispered, and his lips met Dean’s in an open-mouthed kiss. Dean’s hand in his hair tightened.

He didn’t use his tongue. Well… not until Dean penetrated his mouth. Things became interesting after that. Sam let Dean take control over the kiss completely. Their tongues met in an exciting game. Teeth scraped at soft lips, even bit tenderly, Dean’s tongue was gone for a moment so that the mouth could suck Sam’s lower lip gently. Then it was back, licking its path back into the depth of Sam’s mouth… If someone got breathless through the kiss, it was definitely Sam. He pulled away to get some air into his lungs. He could hear Dean’s quiet chuckle.

“Jerk,” Sam growled, but there was no true anger in his voice.

“Next time don’t say foolish things, sucker,” Dean said cheerfully and pulled Sam down for another kiss, this time tender and short.

Sam sighed contentedly and put his head on his brother’s shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll get some sleep tonight. You?”

“No chance.”

“What do you think about hitting the road?”

“It’s a great idea.”

Sam grinned and sat up. “So get your lazy ass out of the bed.”

“Get me some light and I will. It’s pitch-dark if you didn’t notice and not everyone has laser eyes.”

Sam laughed, standing up. He moved around the dark room with certainty of a night hunter. He found the switch without any hesitation and turned the light on.

“Thanks,” Dean said from the bed, shading his eyes with his hand. Sam’s eyes needed some time to get used to the sudden light as well.

He spotted Dean’s jeans in a chair and he brought them to his brother, throwing them on his stomach since Dean didn’t move from the bet yet.

“What else can I do for you?” he asked with a roguish grin.

“Get dressed, bitch, and load the guns.”

“Yes, sir,” Sam saluted and went to find his own clothes.

“Hey, I like that,” Dean said, smirking.

“I bet you do. You like bossing me around.” The words should have been a joke, but when no reply came, Sam looked at Dean. His brother was getting dressed in silence, not looking at Sam, but the hurt expression was still visible on his face.

“Dean, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.” Sam was by Dean’s side immediately, folding his arms around his big brother. Surprisingly, Dean didn’t push him away, but he didn’t relax into Sam’s embrace either.

“Am I bossing you around, Sammy?” he asked, his voice low and uncertain.

Sam nuzzled Dean’s neck. “You used to a lot when we were little. I know you were doing your best protecting me and raising me while Dad wasn’t there. You did it even when we grew up, but I know you always meant well.”

Dean stayed quiet, so Sam continued:

“Dean, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said something like that. Can you forgive me?”

“Am I still bossing you around?”

“Sometimes. But I don’t mind, Dean.”

“No, Sammy, you do,” Dean said, trying to free himself from the grip, but Sam was holding him tight.

“I don’t like when you don’t wanna listen to what I have to say, but that’s all. I don’t mind you telling me what to do when I don’t know it myself. Especially these days, I need you to tell me, because I can’t distinguish what is right and what is wrong anymore. So a little bit of bossing me around is okay.”

“Sammy…” Dean sighed and put his head on Sam’s shoulder. “There’s so much shit between us…”

It hurt to hear that, but Sam pressed his brother closer, anyway. “I know. But we’ll solve it.”

“Are you sure we can?”

“I’m convinced.”

“All right then. I believe you,” Dean’s voice was quiet, but there was something that made Sam want to prove he was right and Dean’s belief was legitimate.

“I love you. I want to make it right,” he whispered into Dean’s ear.

“Okay. I do too,” Dean said and pulled away. This time Sam let him. “Get ready for the trip.”

Sam gave Dean a small smile. “Roger.”

Dean’s lips curled upwards slightly and Sam knew he won.   

*

Until they got on the road, the excitement of the hunt was back. Sam watched the trees outside as they were passing them and listened to some crappy radio station playing even crappier country music. None of them liked it, but it was the best they could find on the radio right now and they both preferred at least something to complete silence. Silence had become their companion during the last few months, so they both welcomed this little change. 

“I almost forgot. I have a present for you,” Dean said suddenly and dug something out from the pocket of his jacket. He handed it to Sam.

Sam stared at the brand new cell phone, giving Dean a quizzical look, before he reached for it hesitantly.

“You’ll need it,” Dean said with a small smile. “I’ve already saved my number in the contact list. The rest is on you.”

Sam ran his thumb over the small keyboard. “I don’t think I’ll need more,” he said, opening the contact list with the only number.

Dean glanced at him. “Sam…”

“Thank you,” Sam interrupted him quickly, giving his brother a broad smile. “It’s great.”

“Okay,” Dean said with a sigh and changed gear.

*

“… he came after the opening hours. The clerk just closed the store and was taking the jewels into the safe when he marched in through the back entrance.”

“It should be on the record, right?”

“Yes, everything’s there. That’s how we knew the identity.”

“Right…”

“Agent, what is your partner doing?”

Dean turned around and looked at his brother crouched behind the counter and sniffing like a dog trying to catch the scent of the culprit.

“Em… well… his methods are a bit nonstandard…”

The police officer watched Sam with a look talking about his doubts about Dean’s brother’s mental abilities. Sam meanwhile checked every little inch of the counter and continued in the back room of the store. Dean didn’t need to ask what he was doing there. He already had an experience from the previous jewelry and the bank. Sam didn’t act like a federal agent they pretended to be, probably he wasn’t even able to. He was too restless, too curious, and it was safest to let him do the things his own way, even though he reminded Dean (and surely not just him) of a hunting predator. Well… he was one, right?

He glanced at the officer, whose doubts were obvious.

“He’s autistic,” Dean tried again.

The officer raised an eyebrow. “Since when does the federal bureau take autistic people?”

“It’s a light form of autism. He needs to check every inch of a crime scene and he notices details that normally escape attention. He’s a pro.” Dean gave the officer an innocent smile.

Sam returned. His tie was loosened and the first button of his shirt undone. Dean rolled his eyes. They were arguing about this since they changed into the suits.

“I think I got him,” Sam said to Dean, his look unfocused and wandering around the room. He was still taking deep breaths.

“That’s great. Now let’s go. We have plenty of work to do,” Dean replied and smiled at the police officer, who looked very doubtful and suspicious. He hurried out from the store when he realized Sam wasn’t following.

“Sam!”

Sam was still standing on the spot, his eyes looking somewhere into the distance. Dean already knew that look too well and he cursed. Why the hell now? The officer was standing by Sam, talking to him, but Sam didn’t react.

Dean returned.

“Could you leave us alone, officer? My partner doesn’t feel well,” he said, and after the guy nodded and left the room, Dean turned to Sam.

“Sammy, come back,” he said softly, but no response came. He took Sam’s hand, hoping that would catch his brother’s attention. “Sam, come to me.”

Nothing.

Dean cursed quietly. He put his hand on the nape of Sam’s neck and pulled him closer to give him a small kiss. He knew the officer (and everyone who looked) could see them through the windows. He didn’t care right now, but he was prepared to kick Sam’s ass for that later. “Come back, honey.”

Sam’s eyes widened and finally focused on Dean’s face

 _Thank God!_ Relief flooded Dean. He could congratulate himself for bringing Sam back so quickly, because it became quite hard lately.

“Come on. Let’s get outta here.”

He went to the door and fortunately, Sam followed this time.

The officer gave them a knowing look when they got out, but Dean decided to ignore that. He wanted to get Sam as far away from there as possible.

While they were in the car, driving to the motel where they were staying, Dean asked:

“What was that, Sam? What happened?”

Sam squirmed in his seat and looked out from the window, not answering.

“As you wish. We can talk later.” Dean knew it was pointless trying to talk to Sam now. If he had tried to force him, Sam would have run away even from the moving car, and Dean really didn’t feel like risking that.

They got back to the motel room safely without any unnecessary incident. Sam freed himself from the uncomfortable suit immediately while Dean poured himself a glass of cheap whiskey. He needed a drink. Urgently.

Sam threw the suit on one of the beds and after he pulled on his usual clothes, he looked much more comfortable and even happy. He glanced at Dean.

“Want a drink?” Dean asked, offering the bottle to Sam.

Sam shrugged, but he didn’t hesitate to accept the offer. He took a proper swig.

“Better?” Dean asked, pouring himself another glass.

Sam shook his head. He returned to the bed and started folding the suit and stuffing it into his duffel. Dean kind of suspected that trying to get Sam into a suit any time soon again would be pretty hard. Especially making him wear a tie looked like a futile effort.

Sam didn’t talk until the evening and he got to bed early that night. Dean joined him soon after, lying down beside Sam. In the light of the table lamp he could see Sam’s smile.

“I was afraid…” Sam started, but then his voice trailed off.

“What? That I’ll sleep in the other bed? I still can.”

Sam’s hand was wrapped around his waist immediately. “No. Stay.”

“Then don’t say foolish things,” Dean replied, and turned off the light before he allowed Sam to spoon him.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice echoed into the silence.

“Hm?”

“What did you call me? Back there in the jewelry?”

Dean stiffened. _Crap…_ “Don’t remember.”

“Liar.” Sam’s hand rested on his brother’s side. His thumb slipped under Dean’s T-shirt and caressed the bare skin lightly. Dean shivered.

“Okay, I remember. It was a moron. Yes, I called you a moron,” he said, burying his burning face into the pillow.

Sam’s thumb caressed his side again and he felt a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Good night, Dean.”

Dean stared into the darkness. Did Sam really let it go?

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I’m okay. Why?”

“Just so. Good night.”

Sam’s hand left his side and rested on his chest for change, pressing him closer.

“Same to you, love,” sounded right into his ear.

Dean tensed, but stayed quiet. He was fighting between the urge to kick Sam out of the bed and keeping him close. He decided he liked the latter more. He could feel Sam’s warm breath tickling his neck and it felt nice and comfortable in his arms despite the stupid name he called Dean. Judging from the regularity and slow rhythm of his breathing, Dean assumed Sam was already asleep, so kicking him out would miss the point of the whole act.

Dean sighed contentedly and settled comfortably against Sam’s broad chest. Why should he fight against all of this if it felt so damn good?

*

They went to the jail next day to talk to the so-called culprits. After that, they visited their families and the families of the victims. Persuading Sam to wear the suit was quite a piece of hard work.

“Why, Dean? I don’t want. I don’t feel comfortable in it.”

“Because we need to look trustworthy. Come on, Sam! It was you in the first place who made me wear this crap a couple years ago.”

“But it was a different situation.”

“How?”

“I didn’t feel like in a cage in… in this.”

“Dammit, Sam, you wanted to be a lawyer. You would’ve worn the freaking suit every stupid day.” 

“I know, but…” Sam sighed heavily. “I don’t like it. Especially the tie. I feel like a dog on a leash.”

Dean gave up. “Okay, you don’t need to wear the tie, but you’ll wear the suit. That’s my last word.”

Sam pouted, but didn’t argue anymore.

While paying visits to the families of the victims and the culprits, Sam was restless and wasn’t able to just sit and listen. Dean let him check the rooms – Sam’s keen nose could tell them more than they would have found out just by looking around. Sam didn’t find anything unusual; the smells were different in each house.

“The scents don’t match,” Sam said when they returned to the motel room in the evening. “The smell I caught in the last jewelry was completely different to the guy’s who supposedly robbed it.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me,” Dean agreed, putting on his jacket.

Sam looked at him curiously. “Where are you going?”

“Bars. I’m gonna listen to the public opinion.”

Sam reached for his own jacket. “I’m going with you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Why not?”

“Sam, what do you think will happen there?”

Sam shrugged. “You’ll have a couple of drinks and talk to people?”

Dean grimaced and sat down on the bed. “Specify people.”

Sam played with the jacket in his hands nervously. “Women?”

“Smart,” Dean said sarcastically. “Yeah, women mostly. It’s not my fault they’re constantly hitting on me. And we both know you’re not very good at keeping your jealousy under control.”

It was obvious Sam didn’t like the idea. “I’m going with you,” he said in the end. “I’ll keep it under control, I promise.”

“Sam…”

“We’re working a case. I get that you flirting with girls is the easiest way to get information. I won’t make any trouble. Please.”

Dean ran his hand over his forehead. “Sammy…”

“Please.”

Dean looked at Sam. The pleading puppy dog eyes were an effective weapon of the bitch. Too bad for Dean.

“Okay. Let’s go,” he capitulated. “But I warn you. If you cause some trouble, I’ll use silver on you.” It was cruel to threaten Sam with that, but he needed him to behave.

Dean bought Sam a megalarge burger on their way to the bar to keep him calm for some time. Sam, chomping happily on the burger, just supported Dean’s thought that a content Sam was a behaving Sam, so he allowed himself to hope that the evening could be actually successful.

*

Well-fed and content, Sam entered the bar right after Dean. Various smells attacked his keen nose immediately and his sharp ears had to get used to the loud music, shouts and laughter from every direction. His fingers brushed Dean’s hand, but then he pulled away, not wanting to make Dean angry with his displays of affection… or not so soon.

“All right, Sammy,” Dean turned to him. “I’m gonna do my job and you… find something, okay? Just behave.”

Sam smiled. “I think I’ll play pool and win some money.”

Dean glanced in the direction of the pool table. “Don’t get involved into a fight. We don’t need any trouble.”

“Don’t worry,” Sam assured him and disappeared in the crowd.

He ordered beer and joined some guys in the pool game. He made sure he could see Dean from his spot and Dean obviously made sure he could watch Sam from his table. Sam pulled out his new phone and typed: _Enjoying the view?_

He watched Dean read the massage and grinned when his brother looked at him before he typed the answer: _Enjoying how the fat guy’s gonna kick your ass._ Sam chuckled… and beat his opponent in the first round.

Dean wasn’t alone for long. A pretty readhead with a coquettish smile sat down at his table. Sam was fighting the urge to run there and wipe that luscious smile from her face. He lost two rounds until he won the money back again. Meanwhile Dean bought the woman a drink and returned her smiles with his usual confidence. Sam could see the invisible fibers of his brother’s charm tightening around her, she was his, she wanted him, she was talking, talking, talking, and probably talking dirty, trying to talk him into something sinful… and Dean was smiling, looking so damn seductive, and Sam couldn’t stop staring.

Uncertainty flooded his whole being. He was a man, a brother, and a werewolf on top of that – all those things were talking in favor of the readhead, and if only Dean hadn’t looked at her like she was the only one in the bar, Sam wouldn’t have felt so frustrated. He knew Dean’s tactics, but it didn’t mean it hurt less when he saw his brother like this. This smelled like an imminent one-night stand and Sam could recall all the times when Dean returned to Sam _after_ sex. Okay, those were the old times when Dean had not idea about Sam’s perverted feelings, but being a werewolf was making the things even more complicated. Sam knew Dean didn’t have sex for quite a long time (as for Dean, he could call it eternity), so it was just natural that he would use the chance. The woman was attractive and she seemed pretty confident with herself. It was obvious what she wanted and it was completely up to Dean whether he would give it to her or not. The clueless Dean from before would have. This Dean…

“Are you playing or not?” he heard the fat guy, who was supposed to ‘kick his ass’. Sam didn’t even look at him and he shoved the won money into the pocket of his jacket.

“I need to go,” he said and left the guys there, hearing ‘moron’ and ‘idiot’ as he was walking away.

He came to the table where Dean and the readhead were sitting at.

“… we can go to my place,” he caught the woman’s words, and anger rose within him.

“Back off, he’s taken,” he growled and sat down right beside Dean.

“Sam! What the HELL?” Dean’s smile was gone and he looked pissed.

The readhead looked at glaring Sam at first, then at Dean and back at Sam. “Sorry, I didn’t know. You didn’t say anything,” she said, confusion visible in her face.

 _Serves her right,_ Sam thought with satisfaction and pressed his side to Dean. His brother tensed, giving Sam a furious look. “He’s my retarded brother,” Dean said to the readhead.

Sam glowered and buried his nose in the crook of Dean’s neck. “Really, love?” he said, so that the woman could hear it, too.

“If you don’t stop right away, I’ll rip off your head, _honey_.” 

“Hey, fags, get a room and don’t bother decent people!”

Sam raised his head and looked from where the insult came. “Any problem?” he asked warningly.

“Yes.” A bulky guy stood up from a nearby table. “Your show doesn’t interest anyone. Get out of here or keep your hands to yourselves.”

Sam wanted to stand up, too, but Dean grabbed his arm. “No, Sam. Stop it.” Sam shook him off easily and peeled off from Dean’s side. He rose from his seat.

Dean stood up as well, grabbing his wrist. “Stop it _right now_ , Sam. Sorry, sir, we’re leaving.” He pulled Sam in the door’s direction.

“Don’t show your faces here ever again, dirty faggots, otherwise I’ll rip your willing asses!”

Sam would have let the insult sink unnoticed if it hadn’t involved his brother. He stopped, freeing his hand from Dean’s grip, and turned to the guy.

“Say that again and I’ll rip _your_ ass, dick,” he said dangerously.

“Dammit, Sam, are you out of your mind? Come on, we’re leaving. NOW.” Sam felt Dean’s fingers clench his jacket, but his eyes were still bored into the guy, who was coming closer, ready for a fight. Sam slipped out from his jacket, leaving it to Dean, and took a fighting position. A cruel smirk curled his lips.

He took a deep breath… and stiffened. His eyes slid from his opponent to a tiny dark-haired girl standing in the crowd piling around them.

“Don’t make me use silver on you,” Dean hissed behind Sam’s back, not noticing the slight change in Sam’s posture.

Even if Sam had listened to him finally, it was too late already. He dodged the guy’s blow easily and moved swiftly behind his back. The girl meanwhile disappeared from his sight, but her scent was still there. He heard someone got punched and then the sound of a body hitting the floor.

“Crap,” someone moaned painfully. Sam recognized the voice. He turned around to check it out. Dean was just getting up on his feet again; the bulk towering above him, obviously surprised himself that he didn’t hit Sam but someone else.

Blood boiled within Sam. “No one touches my brother,” he growled darkly and grabbed the guy’s collar, throwing him across the room. The guy collided with one of the tables. Sam reached for Dean quickly, pulling him up.

“I caught the smell of the shapeshifter, hurry,” he said, letting go of Dean and running to the back of the bar. People backed off from him, getting out of his way. Dean was right at his heels, using the advantage of the situation. Until the bulk got the chance to get up and follow them, they were long gone.

Sam pushed the back door of the bar open and ran out on the street. He looked around. His nose was leading him unerringly after the shapeshifter. He could hear his brother following him.

“Hey,” he showed Dean a pile of shed skin in a dark empty alley. Dean nodded and looked around.

“Can be anywhere,” he said, handing Sam his jacket.

“Went there,” Sam pointed at a door in the wall of one of the high buildings, and they really found a piece of skin there.

“Can I?” Dean asked, ready to kick the door open.

“Wait.” Sam handed the jacket back to his brother and unbuttoned his shirt.

“Are you gonna transform?”

“Yep. Will be much easier,” Sam said, taking off his clothes quickly. He bent forward and his hands touched the ground. His face stretched into a muzzle, the teeth got sharp, and fangs glittered in the darkness. His ears grew and got pointed, his nails turned into claws. The whole body was covered with thick, silvery fur.

The door in front of him opened and the strong odor of the shapeshifter got into his nose. He took a deep breath. He could smell fear, anger, and hatred. He bared his teeth into something similar to a grin.

“Be careful, Sammy. Have fun.”

Sam knew he would.

*

Dean glimpsed a figure of a tall man looking just like his little brother in the empty room behind the door. Probably the shapeshifter thought he could confuse them. Huh, amateur…

Sam strode into the room, every muscle in his wolf body talking about joy of the killing. Dean couldn’t deny it gave him goose bumps seeing bloodthirstiness where was nothing more than disgust before. Sam hadn’t been a killer, he turned into one under the influence of the monster within him.

 _So this is what Sam is becoming…_ The thought had tortured him for some time already. How long could they live like this? Would death come sooner than Sam would turn completely or would Dean lose his brother before their time was up? And what was more important? Looking for the cure or taking care of Sam, who obviously needed more and more attention? Sam became a great tracker, but a terrible hunter. His world constricted into two things: blood and Dean.

Dean crouched next to the pile of Sam’s clothes, digging out the undershirt. He buried his nose into the soft cotton, breathing the scent captured in the fabric. It was Sam’s, it was the scent of his brother as he knew it and as he always remembered it. How could a werewolf have the same scent? Dean couldn’t smell sin, couldn’t smell cruelty, it was his brother through and through.

Dean tilted his head to the dark sky and prayed in silence to the God, who most likely wasn’t even home, to bring Sam back.

The door opened and Sam walked out. He was in his human form, completely covered with blood. The look of his eyes was hard and cold, his movements steady.

“Sam, are you okay?” Dean asked, horrified by the sight.

Sam looked at his hands and shrugged. “I’m fine.”

“Come on, get dressed. Hurry,” Dean urged him. They needed to get away from there as soon as possible.

The clothes glued to Sam’s body, the blood leaving dark red smudges on them. Dean grabbed Sam’s arm, pulling him to their car as fast as he could, but making sure they didn’t attract too much unwanted attention. It was still dangerous roaming the streets with a blood-covered guy. Luck must have been on their side, because they got to the car without any problems and drove to the motel.

Instead of going right to the shower, Sam headed for the fridge. Dean didn’t pay much attention to that. He didn’t get how the bitch could be hungry after the carnage barely a half-hour ago, but whatever.

He sat down on the bed and sighed. The bruised cheek was aching and the level of adrenaline in his veins was slowly decreasing, so he felt tired. And angry. With Sam for being such and asshole back there in the bar.

A washcloth in which ice was wrapped appeared in his view.

“Put it on your cheek,” Sam’s calm voice told him.

Dean took the cloth with the ice and pressed it to the sore spot. Sam sat down next to him.

“I’m sorry for what happened…” Sam started.

“I don’t wanna talk about it right now, Sam. Go to shower and be quick. We’re leaving.”

He stood up and started packing their crap. If he had looked at Sam, he would have seen hurt and guilt in the hazel eyes rimmed with blue.

The door of the bathroom closed and Dean sighed heavily.   

*

“I’ll drive,” Sam offered after they threw their duffel bags into the trunk.

“No. You’re still high on adrenaline,” Dean growled. He was still angry with the stupid moron of his brother.

“Dean, you need to rest and I feel fine. Let me drive for a while,” Sam insisted. “Please. You look like crap.”

“And who’s responsible for that?” Dean exploded, but went to the passenger’s side, anyway. He got in, not giving Sam a single look.

They didn’t talk, didn’t even turn on the radio.

After about an hour Dean broke the silence. “What the hell was up with you tonight? You promised you wouldn’t cause any trouble and you threw that guy across almost the whole room. You’re hundred times stronger than any human and if you can’t control your strength, I can’t let you walk among common people.”

Sam glanced at Dean. “That was the reason why you didn’t want to take me with you?”

Dean frowned. “No. I didn’t want to take you because I was afraid you’d get jealous… and unfortunately I was right.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I hope you are. What the hell were you thinking? You outted us in front of the whole bar. I can’t believe you did that,” Dean went on, all his anger pouring out from him. Sam was listening to him, knowing he screwed up terribly this time. But the readhead… she was a rival. Sam couldn’t let her seduce Dean… right? But it was Dean’s choice whether he wanted to be seduced or not, Sam had no right to mix into it. Now Dean was pissed and Sam didn’t know how he could make it better again.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I truly am.”

“Sam… you’re such a pain in the ass sometimes…” After Dean got out everything that was eating him, his voice sounded a little calmer, so Sam found his courage to ask about the thing that troubled him most:

“Would you go with her?”

“What? What are talking about?” Dean asked as though he couldn’t remember his flirting with the whore.

“The readhead woman. She suggested you to come to her place. Would you have gone if I hadn’t interrupted?”

“Stop the car,” Dean said. The tone of his voice was cold and firm… commanding.

Sam glanced at him, confused.

“Sam, stop the car. Now!”

Sam parked the car on the side of the road. Dean shot out as though there wasn’t enough air inside. Sam got out as well.

“Dean?”

No answer.

Sam walked around the car and came to his brother.

“Dean, are you okay?”

The hard punch made him step back. What the hell…?

“How dare you?” Dean said, fuming with rage. “How dare you asking me something like that after I promised you would be the only one for me? Do you think I don’t love you enough just because I haven’t said it to you? Are my deeds mute that you haven’t realized how much you mean to me? Newsflash! I love you even in this screwed way and the only reason why I haven’t told you is that I’m not sure how sincere you are when you say that: whether it’s the werewolf or Purgatory talking out of you or whether it’s the true you.” He inhaled. “I’d give you anything, Sam. Why don’t you believe me?” His eyes were glistening with moisture, but no tear came out.

“Dean,” Sam addressed him softly, his heart racing like a wild horse, beating so fast that he thought it would burst out of his chest. Dean loved him. More than just a little brother he was supposed to protect. But if Sam said a wrong thing now, he would lose Dean for good.

“It’s all me,” he said. “The werewolf and Purgatory – they just brought out the feelings I wanted to bury deep inside me, because I thought there was no chance you would love me this way. That’s why I feel uncertain, especially when I see you with a pretty woman. What can _I_ offer you? I’m a guy, your brother, and a werewolf.”

Dean clenched his jaw, giving Sam a furious look. “You’re a moron.” He went to the driver’s side of the car and got in. Sam didn’t argue this time and settled in the passenger’s seat.

They didn’t talk to each other for the rest of the journey.

When Sam stepped into the cottage in the morning, it felt like coming back home. There was the kitchenette and the table at which they ate so many times together, dishes on the kitchen counter; the couch, still unfolded because folding it every morning was just pointless, comforters spread over it; Sam’s books lying in one of the corners and Dean’s notes on the table, and all the little things that made the place theirs.

“Are you hungry?” Dean asked as he put his duffel in a chair.

Sam winced by hearing his voice after the hours of silence. “A little,” he admitted.

“Are you okay with pizza?”

Sam gaped. “You’re planning to go to the town?”

“I doubt they would deliver it here.”

“You drove the whole night, you need to rest,” Sam objected, but Dean’s look silenced him.

“I won’t be long.”

“Can I go with you?” Sam asked shyly. He didn’t want to be without Dean now.

“No, you can’t,” Dean said firmly and walked out from the cottage. Sam heard the engine of the leaving car and a long, painful howl found its way out of his throat.

*

He changed into comfortable sweatpants and a T-shirt and got right to bed. He felt lonely and sad. The memories of events of the last night were swirling in his head. Dean… How long had Sam wished to hear his confession he thought would never come? And when it was finally there, it was said in such an angry tone that Sam would have been happier if he hadn’t heard it at all. He was sorry for making Dean that furious, he should have known better. But who could know how Dean really felt about him if the way Dean acted was a normal thing for him? Sam hadn’t been able to distinguish where the brotherly love ended and started something more. But Dean was right, he had said he would be Sam’s and no one else’s and Sam should have trusted him. He had known what Dean was going to do back in the bar, but he still wasn’t able to control himself.

He clenched the phone Dean had given him in his hand. With the contact list open and the name of his brother shining on the display, Sam contemplated to press the button for call for maybe tenth time in the last fifteen minutes, but never did that.

He was sick of himself. He was a coward. The small button of the phone was scaring him, although he yearned to press it and hear his brother’s voice in the receiver.

He cursed and decided to send a text message instead: _Miss you._

*

Dean was sitting in the car and thinking. He really didn’t want to be such an ass to Sam, it was just… he got so pissed that he could hardly hold back. He still shouldn’t have hit him. Sam lived with those feelings much longer and Dean could get that it was hard for him to believe Dean could feel pretty much the same.

He shouldn’t have yelled either. He shouldn’t have said those things with anger. They were supposed to be spoken during one of their chick flick moments, they both should have felt stupid and embarrassed but happy, and even though it would have been absolutely not manly, they would have carried on and probably ended up making out on the couch (read: in their bed). That was the way it was supposed to be.

Dean glanced at the two boxes of pizza lying in the passenger’s seat. They both were meant for Sam. He didn’t feel like eating himself. Getting something to eat was just an excuse to get away from his brother for a while. Dean needed some time to think.

He owed Sam an apology. He shouldn’t have exploded like that. What Sam was going through right now was far beyond his imagination and Dean wondered whether he would have been the same if the tables were changed and he would have been the one fighting an animal within him. Maybe he would have been even worse. The protectiveness of his little brother was rooted deep within him and Dean was sure that it would have blossomed into possessiveness in the end. He loved the idea of being the center of Sam’s universe a way too much, even though the intensity of Sam’s affection scared him. He sucked terribly in his efforts not being consumed by Sam’s love. He had already fallen too deep…

He wished to confess to Sam in much calmer way if there was a chance in the future without any fear and uncertainty. Dean really wasn’t making it easier for Sammy. Maybe it was he who should have let go and take everything Sam was offering.

He was about to start the car and pull on the road when his phone beeped. Dean’s breathing quickened as he saw Sam’s name shining on the display. The two words made him feel sorry for his escape.

 _Im right on my way back,_ he typed and pressed for send.

The reply came almost immediately: _Drive safe._

“I will, Sammy,” Dean said and put the phone away. He started the car and hurried back home.

*

He found Sam sound asleep with his phone pressed to his chest and it made Dean’s heart ache with regret. He shouldn’t have left his brother alone.

He tried to pull the phone out from Sam’s grip. The bulk of his brother was adequately heavy and Dean was afraid he could break the phone if he rolled on it in his sleep. He didn’t manage to do this difficult task without waking Sam up.

“I brought the pizza,” Dean said. “You can eat if you’re hungry.”

Sam sat up, trying to wipe the sleep from his eyes, but he wasn’t successful. He ate barely half of one of the pizzas.

Dean gave him a worried look. “Are you okay?”

“I’m all right,” Sam replied. “I’m just not that hungry. I’ll eat later.” He stood up from the table and returned to bed.

Dean put the rest of the pizzas away and joined his brother in bed. Tiredness was digging its claws into him as well and he wished for nothing less than a good, long sleep.

Sam’s arm found its way to Dean’s waist and wrapped around him hesitantly. Dean didn’t react. Sam shifted closer, his nose buried in the crook of Dean’s neck.

Dean breathed out and offered Sam safety under his protective arm. Sam cuddled up to him as always.

They didn’t need words to be able to understand the true meaning of those gestures: they were their apologies and the expressions of their forgiveness. 


	9. All I Want for Christmas

It was late afternoon when Dean woke up. Sam was still sleeping cuddled up to him. He looked peaceful and innocent in his sleep; there was no trace of the violent creature inside him. The feeling of gentleness flooded Dean. He wanted to protect that peace, even though he knew it wasn’t within his power. The only thing he could do was to be there for Sam as long as his brother wanted him to. It was frustrating that he couldn’t find any lead to the cure.

He removed the long hair from Sam’s forehead and pressed a small kiss there. Sam purred in his sleep and his nose found the way into his favorite place. Dean smiled.

 _I’ll help you, Sammy, and we’ll live happily ever after,_ he promised in his mind before he decided it was time to get up. He was hungry and he was sure Sam would be starving when he woke up, so it was time to check the fridge.

He wanted to free himself from Sam’s embrace without waking him up, but the bitch was already sensitive to Dean’s attempts to leave the bed. He hugged him tighter and mumbled something incomprehensible into Dean’s ear.

Dean sighed. “Sammy.”

“Stay,” Sam whispered.

“Sammy, let go. I need to pee.”

Sam mewled and pulled away at last, watching Dean to leave the bed with sleepy dog eyes.

By the time Dean got out from the bathroom Sam was fully dressed and waiting for him at the table; the sleepy expression still present.

“You didn’t need to get up, you know,” Dean said to him.

Sam shrugged and yawned.

Dean put a plate with heated pizza in front of him and they ate in silence. As expected, the pizza wasn’t enough for Sam and he wolfed even the (raw) piece of meat meant for lunch next day.

They decided to spend the rest of the day just chilling out. There was nothing better to do, anyway. While Sam was sitting on the windowsill, leaning against the doorframe and watching the forest around, constantly sniffing the air, Dean was sprawled on the couch with their laptop in his lap and browsing the internet. Maybe he was looking at the problem from a wrong point of view, maybe there really was no antiwerewolf cure. But there could be some healer or a witch, some spell or simply some magic that could help turn Sam back into a human.

… or Dean could find a crossroads demon and sell his soul, but he was sure Sam would have killed him before the expiration of the contract – and this time he didn’t mean ‘kill’ in a metaphoric way.

“The air is cold,” Sam interrupted the flow of Dean’s thoughts suddenly. “Winter’s at the door.”

“It’s November, Sammy, of course winter’s here,” he said uninterestedly and kept searching the web.

“There’ll be a lot of snow. Do we have a shovel?”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “How do you know? Can you smell it in the air or something?”

“Or something. I can feel it.”

That caught Dean’s attention. “What else can you feel?”

Sam shrugged. “Rain tomorrow.”

“You’re like a walking barometer now?”

Sam chuckled. “Pretty much.” He jumped off of the windowsill. “Get your jacket, I’ll show you something.”

Dean frowned. “Do you wanna take me out? It’s almost dark. Leave it for tomorrow.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a sissy. This is the safest hour. If we meet a bear, I can transform and I’ll protect you easily.”

Dean frowned even more. “I’m not a sissy. You are,” he said sulkily.

Sam grinned and came up to the couch. He shut the computer and removed it from Dean’s lap (“Hey! I was working on it!”) so that he could cuddle up to his brother without causing any harm. His lips found their way to Dean’s neck and started showering it with many tiny kisses.

“Sam…” Dean whispered, unable to shove his brother away. It was so good…

“You like it?” Sam asked in a seductive tone.

“Bitch.”

Sam giggled against his brother’s skin and Dean had to think about beheaded vamps and shed skin of shapeshifters if he didn’t want to get hard. Crap, he didn’t know Sam could be so good at this.

The lips were suddenly gone and a disappointed groan left Dean’s mouth.

Sam straightened up, giving Dean a broad smile. “We can carry on with this when we return.”

Dean glowered. “Are you blackmailing me?”

“Yup,” Sam said cheerfully. He pressed a kiss on Dean’s mouth, making a clear point about his dirty intentions.

“Make sure it’ll be worth the night walk,” Dean growled, getting up.

Sam laughed. “It will, love, I promise it will.”

Dean looked daggers at Sam, but it amused the bitch even more.

“Come on, it will be educating.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Dean capitulated, letting Sam take his hand and lead him out from the cottage.

He really felt stupid being pulled behind the bulk of his brother like some kid, but he didn’t try to free his hand from the grip. It still felt kind of nice. Dean would have never admitted that, but he felt safe in the dark forest with Sam holding his hand and watching over his every step. It was really incredible how certainly Sam moved in the darkness without any mistake, and he didn’t even allow Dean to make any false step. He led Dean safely, stopping from time to time to sniff the air and listen to the night sounds, but then he continued leading Dean deeper into the forest.

“Where are we going?” Dean asked when he thought they were already too far.

“Shhh, we’re almost there,” Sam whispered. His steps became more careful and so silent that Dean couldn’t catch a sound. The slight breeze was blowing to their faces and Sam was checking it every now and then. Obviously, it was telling him something important only he could understand.

Sam led Dean a few more steps forward before he made him hide behind bushes.

“A bear,” he whispered right into Dean’s ear so quietly that Dean had a problem to catch the words. He stared into the darkness, listening intently. And really, he could hear mumbling and growling somewhere in front of them. Sam’s chest was pressed to Dean’s back and he was holding his big brother as if he wanted to protect him. Dean could hear him sniff the air.

“It can’t smell us,” Sam whispered again.

Dean was trying to make out the shape of the bear, and he really could see a movement, though it was quite hard in the dark that settled in the forest.

Sam pulled Dean back. “Careful,” he said quietly, gripping Dean’s hand again and leading him away from the bushes.

Dean didn’t dare speak in case there was some other dangerous animal watching them. Sam made sure the wind was still blowing to their faces and he never stopped sniffing the air. He led his brother to a glade, but instead of leading him out into the moonlight, he made him hide behind a tree. Dean could distinguish tall, slim bodies of does and a deer with respectable antlers.

They were watching the herd in silence for a while until Sam tilted his head to the sky and a long howl echoed. The herd stiffened for a split of second before it started running for life and disappeared among the trees.

Sam’s howl was like a signal that started a series of distant wolf howls. Sam listened to them until the last howl faded away, and only then he gave Dean a sign to follow him again.

Dean didn’t know anymore whether they were going deeper into the forest or they were going back home. Suddenly Sam stopped and when Dean wanted to ask him what was up, he pressed his large hand over his brother’s mouth, preventing him from giving any sound. Dean could see a small body dart to the bushes nearby, only the soft rustle telling him it reached them successfully.

The hand was gone from Dean’s mouth and he felt a pull. He followed Sam again.

“What was that?” he asked after some time, whispering.

“A fox. We disturbed it by hunting.”

“Oh…”  He could already make out the shape of the cottage as they were coming back. “Sam, what was this night walk all about?”

Sam stopped and turned to Dean. “I wanted to show you what my world is going to be like. I think it’s time to talk about future. We both know there’s no cure – you looked for it, I looked for it and without any result…”

“We haven’t tried everything yet,” Dean interrupted. He felt Sam’s fingers on his mouth.

“I’m not saying we should stop looking for some solution. What I wanted to achieve with this excursion was to show you what it will be like when I turn completely. You saw my prey tonight and heard my new family.”

Dean started at Sam uncomprehendingly. “You want to stay with wolves?”

Sam nodded. “I believe I won’t feel the urge to hunt demons with them around. The pack will hold me back.”

“But you don’t know for sure,” Dean said, and his voice trembled. He hoped Sam didn’t notice.

“I don’t,” Sam admitted. “But that’s the best shot I have.”

Dean let go of Sam’s hand and stepped away from him. “I gave up everything to stay with you, Sam,” he said, his voice breaking.

“I know and I’m grateful for every second with you,” Sam said, coming closer to Dean. His hand came up to caress Dean’s cheek. “But we know that it can’t be like this forever, right? I’m losing myself, Dean. I’m doing what I can, but the wolf is getting stronger and I don’t have enough strength to fight it. I’m not giving up, not yet, but I need to be sure you’ll be okay when it happens.”

“I won’t be okay,” Dean said, heat slipping into his tone. How could he be okay if he lost his brother… again?

“Promise me when it happens, you’ll leave and you’ll never come back. You won’t look for me and you’ll be okay just with the knowledge that while you’re alive, I’m as well. Promise me, Dean.”

Dean closed his eyes, trying to calm down the storm of emotions raging within him. He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Dean…”

“I can’t, okay?” he said more heatedly and opened his eyes, glaring at his brother.

“Can’t or won’t?” Sam asked, his voice quiet.

“Both,” Dean said without hesitation.

Sam breathed out, hanging his head.

“Purgatory craved your longing for me right into your soul… or everything you told me about the place was a lie?”

Sam’s eyes met Dean’s. The slight shake of the head encouraged Dean to continue:

“Then how do you wanna live without me? How can you even think about it? While you’re alive, I must stay here. There’s no other way. Do you want to tell me the wolves would be enough for you to hold you back from looking for me?”

A sad smile curled Sam’s lips. “You finally get it. Probably better than I.”

Dean huffed. “I surely understand it better than you, dummy, otherwise I have no idea why would you say such idiotic things.”

“I’m just trying to find a solution to keep you safe when it happens...”

Dean gave Sam a sarcastic smile. “I’m afraid there’s nothing like that, bro. You’ll either accept that I’m right and stop worrying about it, or we can argue the whole night, coming to no solution. Which one do you prefer?”

Sam made a face. He didn’t like the choices obviously.

“One more thing, bitch: I’m not a weak girl. I can protect myself,” Dean said firmly. “You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not. You kill me, you die – and isn’t it against your self-preservation?”

“You know I wouldn’t kill you,” Sam grunted. “I would hurt you in some other way.”

Dean nodded. “I know. That’s why I have silver and I won’t hesitate to use it,” he said, giving Sam an innocent smile, even though anger was bubbling within him. _Stupid little bitch…_ He turned around and went back to the cottage. He considered this conversation to be over.

Sam hurried after him. They barely stepped inside and he wrapped his long arms around Dean, locking him in his tight embrace.

They both were silent. Anger was slowly leaving Dean and he relaxed against Sam’s chest, pressing close. His arms came up to hug the bitch. Dean really didn’t know when he became this girly… It was all Sam’s fault!

Sam found Dean’s mouth, giving him a long, exciting kiss.

“I promised you something,” he said after their lips parted for a moment.

“Right. You should keep your promises,” Dean replied, letting Sam pull him to the couch (bed).

They sank into the sheets – Sam half on top of Dean – exchanging passionate kisses. Dean noticed that Sam was holding back trying to be extremely careful about his teeth. One tiny unfortunate bite and their dark fairy tale would have changed into a true horror story.

Sam’s mouth found its way to his favorite place and Dean tilted his head, exposing his neck for Sam to give him better access. Sam’s tongue caressed the warm skin, and he started delivering tiny sloppy kisses there while his hand fumbled under Dean’s T-shirt.

Dean sighed quietly. “Sammy…” he whispered the name that meant worlds – could move the earth and spill the water of all the oceans. Sam, Dean’s brother.

Sam lifted his head and Dean could see right into the depth of his soul, all the hurt carved into his being, all his guilt, every little scar and smudge blemishing his personality… and he was still beautiful in his imperfection because of all the love he was able to give, all the hope he was able to share and all the faith he was still able to hold. It was Sam, Dean’s little brother and his greatest treasure.

Sam smiled and Dean would have sworn it was the most gorgeous smile he had ever seen, because it was full of love and was meant only for him. When he looked into Sam’s eyes he could see his own reflection.

His chest ached and his throat tightened. “Sammy,” he whispered again, pulling Sam down for another kiss, this time tender and soft. Sam reciprocated, his hand stroking Dean’s bare chest under the T-shirt.

“This is in the way,” Sam said, his voice low and husky… and lacking all the innocence Dean was used to. His big hands gripped the hem of the T-shirt and pulled it off of Dean.

Dean’s chest was heaving in the fast rhythm of his breathing. He was watching Sam bending above him and obviously enjoying the view. Sam smiled and ran his hand up and down Dean’s naked chest. Dean shivered under the touch and when Sam’s lips were pressed to his bare skin, he closed his eyes and moaned silently.

He felt Sam’s mouth sliding slowly over his clavicle, kissing and tasting, then moving to the other side. When he was done with the collar bones, he continued down, not leaving a single inch of Dean’s chest unnoticed. Meanwhile Sam’s hand wandered down to Dean’s pants and cupped the treasure hidden under two layers of clothes.

Dean gasped as he felt a gentle squeeze. “Holy crap, Sam, yes!” he moaned.

A cheerful chuckle against his rib cage was like oil into fire. Dean’s body burned with want and he was curious how far Sam wanted to go.

Sam lifted his head and looked Dean in the eyes, a content smile brightened his face. Dean couldn’t resist an urge to reach out for him and pull him down for a new series of kisses. He could feel the stroke of Sam’s hand in his crotch and then his brother’s skillful fingers freed the button of his jeans from the hole and pulled down the zipper. Sam caressed Dean’s swollen pride through the thin layer of the boxers and Dean sighed and spread his legs wider unconsciously.

Sam graced Dean’s mouth with the last kiss before he pulled away. Dean moaned disappointedly, but it only amused Sam again. A second later Dean could feel his tongue licking its path from Dean’s navel to the waistband of his boxers.

“God…” Dean sighed, and the lips were gone again; instead of them gentle hands were trying to free Dean’s manhood from the clothes. Dean helped willingly and when the cool air touched his overheated skin, he barely realized it because there was a big, hot paw sheathing his erection.

Dean moaned with utmost pleasure when the hand stroked him gently.

“Good?” a sexy voice sounded right into his ear.

“Don’t... ask… stupid questions,” Dean forced out of his mouth, and it was really hard to talk when the sparks of pleasure were igniting true fire in his lower belly. The hand on his cock wasn’t gentle anymore – every stroke and every pull, every single twist of the skillful wrist was rough and hard and firm… and still so goddamn good.

Dean dug his nails into the sheets, gasping for air and thrusting into the hand that was pushing him right to the edge little by little.

Wet lips touched his neck again, making Dean moan, before they moved to his ear slowly.

“I love you.” It was a whisper and it shouldn’t have sounded so _fucking_ hot, but it did and that was the last push – Dean was falling directly into the embrace of the Goddess of Physical Love, finding the utmost pleasure in her arms.

When he came down from his high, his body was still shuddering with the afterglow. The big hand was still curled around his softening pride and the wet kisses were taking him from the realm of ecstasy to the land of sleepy pleasure.

“Don’t want me to move,” he warned, closing his eyes.

The lips left his neck and neither could he feel the hand on his spent cock anymore.

“I don’t,” the quiet reply came.

Dean didn’t have the strength (or will?) to open his eyes and check what Sam was doing, but after about a minute or so he felt the touch of hot tongue licking the come from his belly. What the…?

“Sam?”

“Hmmm?”

“What are you doing?”

He finally opened his eyes and looked at his brother bent to Dean’s stomach, a droplet of come decorating the corner of his mouth. There was confusion in Sam’s face; probably he wasn’t sure what he was doing himself.

“Er… cleaning you up?” he offered, a reddish shade coloring his cheeks.

Dean buried his head deeper into the pillow and with a sigh he stared at the ceiling.

“Don’t kiss me after that unless you brush your teeth,” he said sleepily. Sam’s licks weren’t so unpleasant after all…

Sam continued more hesitantly, but when Dean didn’t attempt to stop him, he became more confident. After he was done, he dressed his brother’s lower parts again and stretched out beside him. Dean, feeling Sam’s body heat radiating right next to him, used the moment of Sam’s awkwardness and snuggled to him, not feeling a bit of guilt for that. Sam wrapped his arms around him immediately, purring contentedly.

“Don’t you want me to return the favor?” Dean asked and hoped for ‘no’. He really didn’t feel like moving anymore.

“And miss this moment? No way!”

Dean chuckled. “Maybe you’d like it better than this.”

Sam’s chest trembled with silent laughter. “Probably. But I like this very much, too. I’m not a modest type, I want everything in full extend.”

“That’s a bit unsettling, you know,” Dean said, breathing Sam’s scent. “You smell nice.”

“I smell of you,” Sam replied with a giggle.

Dean grinned. “Really? Do I smell good?”

“Right now? You smell of sex.”

“That means good,” Dean said contentedly, cuddling closer. “If you smell of me, you smell of sex, too. I like the smell of sex.”

Sam laughed. “Dude, to be honest, you _reek_ of sex.”

“Aww, someone uses strong words.”

“I just want to be precise.”

“Oversensitive nose, I get it. What else can you smell?”

“Besides the overwhelming smell of sex? Sweat. And…” Sam hesitated.

“And?”

“Satisfaction. And happiness.”

Dean opened his eyes, trying to process what he just heard. “You can smell emotions?”

“It’s more like I can feel them. I… can feel your emotions. I may be mistaken sometimes, but mostly I’m right,” Sam replied, but there was something that told Dean that Sam felt guilty for this ability. Probably he was afraid his brother could get angry that he hadn’t told him. 

“How does happiness smell?” Dean asked curiously. 

Sam breathed a sigh of relief and Dean suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

“It’s hard to describe. The smell is still yours, beautiful and calming and… exciting,” Sam said and the guilt returned into his undertone.

“I like exciting,” Dean said, assuring him that everything was all right.

“When you’re happy, the smell is richer. It’s… like the sun captured in every pore of your body…”

Sam fell silent. Dean knew he was waiting for some mockery. Normally, he would have been called a girl at this point, but Dean didn’t have the heart to say anything like that right now. Sam was struggling with words because he wanted to be precise, to give Dean the best picture of how he saw the world as a werewolf. Obviously some aspects of his nonhuman existence weren’t so bad.

“I wish I could smell the same,” Dean whispered.

Sam tightened his arms around him, but stayed silent.

“Are you happy, Sammy?”

“I’m very happy, Dean. You make me the happiest being in the whole world,” despite the words, Sam’s voice sounded sad.

Dean breathed out. “If we… didn’t find the cure, would you bite me?” he asked.

“No,” the answer came immediately. “The life of a freak I became is all about satisfying your needs. You go for it, and you can’t feel any better. And then a hunter comes and sends you right to the other side… You don’t deserve to go to Purgatory, Dean. I won’t doom you to that.”

“All right,” Dean whispered. He got the answer he wanted. “Let’s sleep, Sammy, it’s late.” He closed his eyes again, taking a deep breath of Sam’s faint body scent. 

“Good idea,” the reply came, and Dean could feel a comforter being cast over them. “Good night, love.”

“Good night, bitch.”

*

Next morning Dean woke up to the sound of the running water in the shower. The place next to him in the bed was soaked with Sam’s warmth and scent. He huddled under the comforter and buried his face into Sam’s pillow. The world was beautiful…

“What do you want for breakfast?” he heard and lifted his head. He hadn’t heard Sam come out of the bathroom. The bitch could be as silent as a ghost.

“Anything,” he muttered into the pillow.

“Toasts?”

“Sounds good.”

He must have fallen asleep again, because when Sam brought him breakfast to bed (the world was perfect!), it felt like no more than a minute had passed since they had talked.

Sam got back to bed as well and they both were chomping on their toasts happily. Dean glanced out from the window. The sun was high, and even though there were clouds in the sky, it didn’t seem it was supposed to rain that day.

“You were wrong about the rain,” he said and smirked at Sam, but his brother just sniggered.

“The day’s not over yet.”

It turned out Sam was right. Dean frowned at the afternoon downpour behind the window.

“I told you,” Sam said with a grin, sprawled over the couch with a book in his hand.

“Bitch.”

“Jerk. Come here.”

Dean got on the couch, too, and settled comfortably against Sam’s chest. Sam was reading aloud and even though Dean didn’t listen to the words, he listened to the sound of Sam’s voice.

Suddenly Sam lost his confidence with the words, something totally different came out from his mouth than it was written on he pages and it was like he was making up his own text. After he wasn’t able to pronounce some (quite simple) word, he shut the book and threw it at the distant end of the couch.

“I’m tired,” he said, frustration in his voice.

Dean looked at him, seeing the darkness sniggering in Sam’s beautiful, sad eyes.

“It’s okay, Sammy. I’m here,” he whispered, and pressed his lips to Sam’s mouth, trying to kiss away anything that was troubling Sam right now. Sam wasn’t very cooperative at the beginning, but then he slowly started melting under Dean’s kisses. He went to sleep early that night while Dean stayed awake and browsed the internet, trying to find any lead to the solution of Sam’s werewolf problem.

*

The next two weeks were rather peaceful. Sam didn’t shift and everything would have been perfect if words hadn’t left him from time to time. It freaked him out pretty much, and he wanted to escape into the forest, but Dean managed to persuade him to stay. Sam curled up under his comforter and usually fell asleep. When he woke up, he was okay again.

They visited the town a couple of times to do laundry and buy food. Dean realized he would have to find a job if they wanted to stay at their current home. Winning money in a game of pool or poker was out of speech since people already knew them and they didn’t feel like losing their money to two pros. But Dean was lucky and after he helped to repair a few cars of the locals, he was offered a job in the service department.

Sam wasn’t happy about that, but he understood and wanted to find a job of his own, but Dean was strictly against the idea.

“Why not? We’re in this together, I wanna do something as well,” he argued, giving Dean a headache.   

“Because, Sam.”

“Dean.”

“I said no. I can earn enough money for both of us. I won’t let you starve, you don’t need to worry.”

“Dean,” Sam whined. “I can work in one of the bars. I already did once, I’m experienced.”

“No, Sam. Just… no. No bars, no nothing.”

“You’re afraid…” Sam said, saying exactly what Dean didn’t want to.

Dean sighed. “Look, Sam, no offence… but I don’t know how much of an animal is already inside you. There’s more of it every day.”

Sam bit his lip, then nodded his head, disappointment glistening in his eyes. “Okay,” he said quietly.

“Sammy…” Dean regretted that he said something. Maybe Sam could try at least and see whether it was really so impossible for him…

“It’s okay, Dean. You’re right,” Sam said, walking to the door.

“Where are you going?”

“For a walk. I… need to breathe some fresh air.” With that he left. Dean let him. This was hard for both of them.

Sam returned late in the evening and he didn’t talk. It seemed he was avoiding Dean, yet he cuddled up to him in the bed as usual.

“You were right, Dean, and I’m sorry for being an ass.”

“You weren’t an ass,” Dean replied and pulled Sam closer.

“I’ll wait here for you until you come back to me,” Sam whispered into Dean’s neck.

“I would recommend that to you,” Dean said with a chuckle.

Sam shifted that night, coming home only with the first rays of the sun, dirty with bear blood. Dean urged him to the shower and fixed quick breakfast for both of them. Sam didn’t eat, going right to bed, while Dean checked whether he had everything he needed (especially the cell phone) for his first day at work.

“I’ll call you later,” he said to Sam. “And you… try to make no trouble, okay?”

“Mhmm,” Sam muttered into his pillow.

“Great. See you later, then.”

“Dean!” Sam’s unexpected shout stopped Dean in the doorway.

“What?”

“You didn’t kiss me goodbye.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You’re such a girl. How old are you? Seventeen?” He returned into the room, nevertheless, and pressed a quick kiss on Sam’s lips. “Satisfied?”

Sam smiled and nodded. “Have a nice day.”

“I’ll try.”

The work wasn’t as awful as he had expected. The boss was a funny guy and Dean proved to be skilled, so as long as he was satisfied with the new worker, everything was all right. He just seemed to develop a certain type of allergy to Dean’s cell phone beeping almost every hour with an incoming text message. Dean told him it was his boyfriend suffering from a rare disease and probably not having much time, and this was the way he could make sure Sam was okay. Fortunately, no one at work seemed to be a homophobic asshole and saying that Dean was in a romantic relationship with Sam looked like the best idea since people in the town had seen them together more than once already (and Sam had never behaved like an innocent brother).

During the lunch break Dean found a quiet place and called Sam back.

“Hey, how’re you?” he asked and felt relief when he heard the cheerful voice.

“I’m fine. How about you? How’s your first day going?”

“Pretty good… surprisingly.”

Sam laughed. “Doesn’t your boss give you a hard time?”

Dean sighed. “Not yet, but if you keep texting me every freaking hour, I’m not sure how long he’ll let me work here.”

There was quiet on the other side for a while, and then a silent “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize” sounded in Dean’s phone.

“Sammy, I’m glad you let me know you were okay. Man, I would go crazy if you didn’t, but it’s a bit…”

“Too much,” Sam finished Dean’s sentence.

“Yeah… kinda.”

“Okay, I’ll try to reduce the number of sent messages.”

Dean grinned. “Thanks.”

“I miss you at home…”

Dean was thinking how to react. He missed Sam, too, and it was killing him that he couldn’t be there to keep an eye on him. “What have you been doing?” he asked, changing the course of the conversation.

“Reading mostly. Well… until I went blank again. I went to bed when it happened, but I couldn’t sleep, and then I tried to text you, but I really don’t know what the message looked like.”

“Messy, I couldn’t read it. I wanted to call you, but the boss was already glaring at me. I didn’t wanna risk pissing him off even more. Hey, do you want steaks for dinner? I’ll buy some on my way home.”

“Yes!” he could hear true delight in Sam’s voice.

“But you’re cooking.”

“No problem, babe, I’ll make you the best steaks you’ve ever eaten.”

Dean shook his head and chuckled. Sam refused to understand that calling his brother sweet names was embarrassing and stupid… but Dean kind of got used to that pretty quickly.

“Listen, honey, I need to go. The break’s almost over and I’d love to eat some snack before I get back to work.”

“Okay. Love you.”

“See you soon,” Dean said and hung up, a slight smile brightening his face.

He received only one text message in the afternoon and it happened shortly before his shift was over. _Cant wait to have u back. Drive safe,_ the message said and Dean couldn’t help the warmth spreading through him. He couldn’t wait to be back at home himself.

Barely did he get out from the car when Sam hug-attacked him, and then the bitch sniffed for the promised steaks.

The dinner was great and if every day would have been this normal and full of little joys, Dean could call himself the happiest person in the world. Sam was cuddlier than normally and gave Dean another great handjob, not wanting anything in return, just to snuggle up to his big brother and sleep in his arms. He was sulky the other morning, but then he texted Dean later, writing _Have a nice day. Luv u,_ and Dean knew Sam was okay. He called the bitch during the lunch break again and they talked almost the whole time. Sam provided his big brother with every detail of his morning activities and Dean told him about his day. Coming home was as good as the day before, but this time Dean took care of Sam when they got to bed, and his little brother fell asleep before Dean even had a chance to get a wet washcloth and clean him up.

Sam’s messages in the morning and Dean’s calls during lunch breaks became their ritual, and their reunions were always as passionate as the first day. That was why it scared the hell out of Dean when he came back home one day, finding out Sam wasn’t there. He recalled the confused words Sam had sent him in the morning and he knew what they meant: Sam needed another hunt.

Or a fuck…

*

He found him behind the cottage feeding on something that had been a rabbit once. Blood was dripping from the torn body of the poor animal and from Sam’s mouth as he was stuffing himself with the meat. There was nothing human in his eyes, nothing that could tell Dean that his brother was still there. This was an animal, a beast they normally hunted, and Dean’s stomach gave an unpleasant squeeze by the sight.

Sam froze for a moment as he registered the presence of someone else. He lifted his head and gave Dean a long look. Maybe he didn’t recognize his big brother… and maybe he did – anyway, he growled at Dean warningly. The rabbit’s guts were sticking out of his mouth, and the whole picture was so disgusting that Dean had to turn around and walk away if he didn’t want to vomit. He heard a whine behind his back and a thud as though something fell on the ground.

“Dean.”

Dean didn’t stop. He strode into the cottage and slammed the door shut. Pressing his back to the hard wood and panting, he closed his eyes. How could this be true? He could hear Sam pounding on the door, calling Dean’s name, but that was the only word he produced. Probably this was one of those moments when words didn’t listen to him and only the sound of Dean’s name was still resonating in his confused head. Sam was holding on it like a drowning man on a straw, but the dark waters of oblivion were pulling him deeper under the surface and the straw was slipping out from Sam’s grip.

“Dean.” It was hardly a word. It was a whine, a plea of a lonely wolf. “Dean.”

Dean couldn’t resist anymore. He opened the door. Sam mewled and wanted to attack Dean with his bone crushing hug, but his brother pushed him away. Dean walked to the old shed behind the cottage, trying to ignore the carrion on the ground. He brought a shovel and put it into Sam’s hands.

“Bury it,” he commanded.

Sam squeezed the shovel in his hands, giving it a mistrustful look before he looked at Dean again.

“I won’t let you in unless you do it,” Dean said and returned into the cottage.

It took Sam some time until he came inside as well. Dean didn’t spend a single look on him. He didn’t care whether Sam finished his feast or he really did what his big brother ordered him.

“Shower,” he said strictly and clenched a glass of whiskey in his hand before he took a proper swig. He could hear the sound of bare feet crossing the room.

They went through the rest of the day in complete silence and when they got to bed finally, Dean didn’t allow Sam to cuddle to him. He was awake until the time Sam transformed, praying to God to give him strength and help him to find some lead to a cure. But God wasn’t listening obviously, because when Sam left the cottage, the howl that echoed sounded much more real than any time before.

*

Sam didn’t turn up in the morning. Dean was worried and he felt the hell guilty for having been so cold to his little brother. Sam couldn’t help himself. It was the darkness within him that made him behave like an animal. But what if the darkness didn’t want to release Sam this time and turned him into a beast completely? What if Sam was not coming back?

Dean scanned the surroundings of their home before he set off to work. He decided to wait one day and if Sam wouldn’t come, then he would go look for him.

The thin layer of snow that appeared till the morning and the cold wind were talking about winter knocking on the door. Someone at work asked Dean whether he thought his boyfriend would make it until Christmas. If Dean wanted to be honest, he didn’t even know how long it still was until the holidays and it surprised him when he found out it was just three weeks. Nevertheless, he had a bad feeling that the answer to the question was ‘no’. Sam was losing himself and it was just a matter of time when he got lost in the darkness completely.

Dean and Sam (as long as he didn’t have his dark minute) had tried to look up faith healers on the web and asked people in the town whether they could recommend someone trustworthy. Mostly the healers turned out to be charlatans, and even if they found someone, their healing powers were based on the effects of herbs. Sam needed magic. They had even found a few psychics, but they were either telepaths or mediums talking to ghosts. None of them could say they knew how to heal a damaged soul.

Dean tried to call Sam several times that day, but Sam never picked up. Maybe he was sleeping? Or maybe he wasn’t at home at all…

Shortly before the lunch break his phone rang. Sam’s name was flashing on the display.

“Sam!” Dean yelled into the receiver. “Are you okay?”

“Come home,” Sam’s quite voice sounded on the other side of the line.

“What’s up, Sammy?” Gentleness slipped into Dean’s voice, making the anger that was there before fade away. Something was up with Sam and Dean didn’t have time for such foolishness as being mad at his little brother for not showing up in the morning.

“Come home. I need you,” Sam said, and his voice trembled.

“Fine, I’m right on my way, baby, just hang on, okay? I’m coming.”

Dean hung up. Something was terribly wrong, he could feel it in his bones. He just informed his boss briefly that he needed to go home and that it was about Sam, and fortunately his boss was an understanding guy, but even if he hadn’t been, there was nothing that would have stopped Dean to go to his brother. Sam needed him and that was the only thing that mattered.

He hurried back home, but the road still covered with the thin layer of snow (the son of a bitch started falling down again) so he had to be careful as well.

He didn’t expect anything nice when he got home, but all his expectations paled in comparison to what he really found. The door of the cottage was open and a bloody trail led inside right to their bed. Sam was lying on the soft, warm sheets, his naked body dirty of blood and mud, and he was shaking all over. Judging from the terrible looking wounds, he must have been in pain. His phone was lying on the floor next to the bed.

Barely did Dean’s eyes land on his brother, he was by his side immediately.

“Holy crap, Sam!” He started examining Sam’s wounds. They were deep and definitely needed stitches even with the werewolf’s incredible healing speed. Dean couldn’t help himself but feel grateful for this Sam’s ability. A common man would have been long dead with such wounds. They looked like some animal made a nice toy of his little Sammy… “What happened? Did a bear play with you?”

“Wolves,” Sam forced through his lips. “Whole pack.”

Dean really expected his adrenaline to shoot up into vertiginous heights, but to his own surprise he felt only sorry for Sam. The poor bastard really believed that if they weren’t able to find any help and he turned completely, the life in a wolf pack could be a solution. He was obviously wrong.

Dean sighed. “This’ll need stitches, you know,” he said gently.

“How bad is it?”

“You’ll live.”

“I know I will.” Sam wanted to laugh, but his torn muscles didn’t like that and he ended up whining into the pillow.

“Easy, Sammy,” Dean said and ran his fingers through Sam’s hair soothingly while his eyes wandered over his brother’s body, trying to find out how much damage was done to that strong body. If a wolf would have crossed his way at that moment, a bullet in its skull wouldn’t have been its greatest reason to be afraid of Dean.

The intention of the pack to tear Dean’s little brother into shreds was more than obvious, but none of the wounds was as bad as the one on Sam’s right thigh. It looked like one of the sons of bitches really got to the ‘shreds’ part. Dean just hoped the price for the piece of meat was appropriately high.

“How many of them didn’t make it?”

Sam grinned cruelly despite the pain. Cold sweat was rolling down his forehead stained with blood. “Three.”

Dean smiled contentedly. “Good boy.”

“Your boy,” Sam replied and closed his eyes.

“Yes, my boy.” The confirmation brought a smile on Sam’s lips. Dean stifled a chuckle. “I’ll get the stuff and you try not to bleed out meanwhile.”

“Funny,” Sam growled quietly, not even bothering to open his eyes and scowl at his brother.

Dean bent for Sam’s discarded phone and put it away. Then he brought the first aid kit and a bottle of whiskey, taking a proper swing from it before he set to work.

He fed Sam with an elephant dose of painkillers that would certainly kill a common man, but Dean was sure a werewolf was (relatively) safe. What worst could happen? Sam would be a bit high. Or sleepy. Both possibilities were highly required right now.

“Ready?” Dean asked after the last pill found its way down Sam’s throat.

Sam nodded, sighing into the pillow.

“Good.”

Dean decided to take care of the wound on Sam’s thigh at first. There wasn’t much he could do. He put a thick layer of clean cloths over the wound and bandaged it. He couldn’t imagine how long it could take the wound like that to heal. Sam was absolutely still while Dean was working on the wound, his whole body rigid and he didn’t give a sound, but after the wound was finally treated, he gave a long sigh of relief.

“Okay, Sam. Now the rest.”

Mostly, the wounds spread over Sam’s arms and back – the most exposed parts of a wolf’s body to enemies – but there were also a few smaller wounds on his legs and a long scratch stretched from his right shoulder to his sternum.

“Do you think you can sit?” Dean asked after he was done with stitching Sam’s wounds. Sam shrugged wordlessly, he already looked sleepy.

Dean drew a chair to the bed and helped Sam to sit in it. He cleaned him with a wet towel and only then bandaged the wounds.

“How do you feel?”

A small smile played on Sam’s lips. “Loved. I love you too.”

Dean didn’t know whether to laugh or kick Sam’s ass. The painkillers worked obviously… “I know you do,” he said. “I meant whether you were in pain or something.”

Sam shrugged. “Dunno.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Dean frowned.

“I mean I dunno. Maybe I am?” Sam offered with and innocent expression that could be hardly faked.

“All right…” Dean gave up. “I’ll change the sheets so that you could lie down.”

“Mhmm.”

“Don’t fall asleep meanwhile.”

“I’ll try…”

Dean could name it luck that the blood didn’t soak into the mattress, because he could literally wring it out from the sheets. He blessed the old thick blanket that was spread on the mattress and on which they slept and exchanged it for a new one. He completely changed the pillows and comforters as well (and he was really glad that they bought spare ones some time ago).

“You’re SO gor-gorgeous,” Sam mumbled. “Every _freaking_ c-curve of your body… gorgeous.”

Dean straightened up and turned to Sam. “Are you high?”

Sam laughed stupidly. “I guess.” He fell silent, gazing at Dean.

“What? Something’s on my face?” Dean tried to wipe away the presumed dirt.

“You’re beautiful,” Sam sighed, already having a hard time to keep his eyes open. It was the right time to get him back to bed.

“Yeah… right…” Dean bent to Sam to help him to stand up and move to the bed.

“I love you.”

“You’ve already said that. Now easy. We don’t want you to fall down, right?”

“I love you as in I’m in love with you…” Sam went on in his rambling. Dean really had enough of his drugged talk already.

“I know, I get it,” he said, helping Sam to lie down and then he covered him with a clean comforter. “Sleep it off, dumbass.”

“You’re the only one for me.”

Dean exhaled slowly. “Make me a favor, Sammy. Shut up and go to sleep.”

“Will you stay with me?”

“I’m going nowhere.”

“In bed?”

 _Little bitch…_ “Okay.” Dean lay down next to Sam. His brother cuddled up to him, lying half-atop on Dean and putting his head on his big brother’s shoulder. He sighed contentedly while Dean was trying to catch his breath. Yet, he didn’t try to push Sam away. He buried his one hand into Sam’s hair, caressing lightly.

Sam’s breathing became even pretty soon, which meant he fell asleep. _Hooray!_ Dean thought and tried to get some sleep himself.

*

Dean woke up quite early in the morning and his whole body was stiff and sore thanks to Sam’s live weight still pressing him to the mattress. He wanted to sneak out from the bed unnoticed, but he didn’t even need to try to know it was impossible. He touched Sam’s forehead lightly with his index finger, following the path down to the tip of his nose in a feather touch. Sam inhaled and tilting his head to Dean’s face, he opened his eyes.

“Hey,” Dean said quietly.

“Hey.”

“Would you mind rolling off of me? I need to pee.”

Sam sighed. “You’re so demanding…” He buried his nose into the crook of Dean’s neck.

“Sam, I mean it. Unless you want me to pee in bed.”

“You know that I would consider you to be marking your territory and I would start doing the same.”

“Sam, we’re NOT gonna start to pee in bed. Do it and I’ll kick you out like a stupid dog.”

Sam yawned. “Okay, okay. No need to get pissed…” He pulled away.

Sam slept through the most of the day, not getting up from the bed even during the short time periods while he was awake (which he used for eating something and then he went to sleep again). Dean took a day off from work in order to take care of him, but his only duty was to feed Sam while he was awake and search the internet for a possible help for him. He was already desperate enough to start contemplating trying to ask for an angel’s help (even though he had no idea who of the dicks would be willing even to talk to them) or to make a deal with a crossroads demon.

It started snowing in the evening and it was rather cold outside. Dean brought a few pieces of wood and made a fire in the fireplace they hadn’t used so far. The pleasant crackling sound woke Sam up and when their eyes met, it was like looking back into the past when they still rode the Impala across the country and slept in cheap motels, ate fast food for breakfast and bitched about the taste in music of each other. At that very moment Sam was much more human than any time since he had started remembering his transformations.

“Sammy? Are you okay?” Dean asked, breathless.

Sam smiled and the well-known dimples appeared in his cheeks. “The wounds are itching like hell, but otherwise I’m fine,” he said and there was so much innocence in his words that it almost ached.

Dean got to bed to him, unable to stop staring at his brother. Sam was so gorgeous, so human at this very moment and he didn’t even know that. There was nothing of an animal in his eyes and no growl or whine heard in his undertone. This was just Sam.

Dean wrapped a comforter tighter around his little brother, hiding Sam’s nakedness and protecting him from cold, just in order to distract himself.

“Would you read for me, Sammy?” he asked, trying to sound confident, but it came out shy anyway.

“Bring a book, cowboy,” Sam said cheerfully.

Dean grabbed the first book that came into his reach, not even knowing what it was because the only thing he could think about when Sam gave him an amused glance as he handed him the book was how beautifully annoying his look was.

Sam was still careful about his stitched back and arms and the most appropriate position for him was to cuddle up to half-sitting Dean leaning against the backrest of the unfolded couch and to put his head on his brother’s shoulder while Dean was holding the book for him in his own lap with one hand while the other was resting on Sam’s waist. Sam only needed to turn pages and read. It surely wasn’t the most comfortable position, but Sam never complained. When he started reading, his voice sounded confident and steady… and so _Sam._

“There was once a king whose wife was pregnant…” Sam read.

“Wait. A king? What is that?”

Sam sniggered and showed Dean the front of the book.

“Grimms’ Fairy Tales? How come we even _have_ such a book?”

“I bought it.”

“When?”

Sam shrugged and pressed closer. “Two months ago.”

“Why the hell?”

“I wanted it.”

“Don’t you have enough books already? Fairy tales! Dude!”

“What? It was my childhood dream. We never had a copy of our own when we were kids.”

Dean grimaced. “Okay, go on.”

“Are you sure?”

“A man should know what his girlfriend likes. Read.”

“I’m a girlfriend?” Sam raised an eyebrow.

“You’re a girl in the first place. Come on, Princess, humor me with the story.”

Sam chuckled. “You’re terrible.” He took a deep breath. “The Queen gave birth to a child, a daughter, but she died herself. The king raised the little Princess alone. She was the most beautiful thing in the world – her skin was as white as snow, her lips as red as blood, and her hair was as black as the darkest night. Her name was Snow White.”

“Wow, Snow White must’ve been a babe. I’m sure her breasts were as big as of the models from Busty Asian Beauties.”

“Dean.”

“What? Are you jealous of some fairy tale chick?”

“Exactly. It’s a fairy tale, not porn.”

“Where’s the difference?”

“Snow White was a virgin.”

There was silence for a moment.

“How do you know that? Maybe she just didn’t tell anyone,” Dean said at last.

Sam made a face. “I simply know.”

“That’s rubbish. Wasn’t she the one who moved into the woods to live with a bunch of midgets?”

“Seven dwarves. Yes, she lived with them until…”

“Then it’s porn. Read, bitch.”

Sam sighed and continued reading. Dean listened to his voice lacking the animal in the undertone; he listened to the words pronounced with easiness and without the carefulness that had always been there before ever since Sam started forgetting human speech. No purr of contentment sounded when Dean pressed a kiss on the top of his head, yet Dean could hear the smile in Sam’s voice as he carried on reading. He listened to him, listened to every word, although he didn’t care about the meaning until Sam stopped reading at the point where the Prince brought Snow White back to life with a kiss, and he kissed Dean himself. Dean slid down into lying position and Sam bent over him, their lips didn’t part even for a second.

The kisses were slow and sensual, not as greedy as they had been lately. They were damn exciting and full of the deepest love. Maybe Sam didn’t even want more than to kiss, but Dean’s treacherous body reacted to the slow, affectionate slides of Sam’s lips over his brother’s mouth and in combination with his momentary joy of seeing no trace of an animal within Sam right now, the reaction was quick and strong. Dean groaned into Sam’s mouth, taking a handful of his hair and not allowing him to pull away. Sam didn’t give any sign he might have wanted that. He deepened the kisses, leaving Dean breathless. Dean so hated to part from those skillful lips!

“I told you it was porn,” he said, gasping.

Sam giggled softly against the corner of Dean’s mouth. “Jerk.”

“I love you, Sammy.”

Dean wanted to tell Sam long ago. Wanted to make up for the last time when he said it in an outburst of anger, but he either lacked the courage or there wasn’t a good time. And finally this moment felt right for such confessions and Dean felt courageous enough. What he didn’t count with was the deep silence that followed. Sam was staring at him with wide eyes; Dean could distinguish every single brown dot in them and the innocent blue on the rims blending in with the familiar hazel-green.

“Say something,” Dean said, and it came out as a plea despite his intention. No matter how many times Sam assured him about his feelings, Dean needed to hear it right now. So why was the bitch quiet? “Sam.”

“I don’t want this moment to pass away,” Sam whispered and graced Dean’s lips with a new kiss. Dean would SO have kicked his ass and called Sam names for letting him hang like that, just staring absolutely speechless, but if Dean had done that, he would have destroyed this heaven on earth.

Dean had to admit his brother was an attentive type. Sam already knew what Dean liked and disliked maybe better than Dean knew it himself and when his hand wandered under Dean’s clothes, it felt just natural to take them off.

They ended up cuddled to each other under Sam’s comforter – Dean’s nakedness matching to Sam’s. Curious hands were roaming over their bodies, hungry eyes watching every curve and every muscle hidden under the perfect skin. They couldn’t stop staring and touching, kissing and just feeling each other close and beautifully hard. Sam’s hips started rocking in a slow rhythm against Dean’s hip while his mouth was kissing a wet path down his brother’s neck.

“Be careful, Sam. Don’t strain yourself too much,” Dean warned, and his fingers ghosted over the bandages covering Sam’s back.

“I’m okay, don’t worry about me,” Sam whispered, finding Dean’s mouth again.

Dean thought that maybe it was time to tell Sam about his little condom secret, but Sam didn’t seem to consider going further than to kissing and humping each other’s leg. Dean didn’t mind. He felt comfortable with the slow pace and if Sam didn’t need more, it was all right.

Sam’s kisses were slow but the more intense and his gentle caresses were igniting small sparks within Dean’s body. It was a game, Dean understood, Sam played with him, giving him pleasure in small doses, but he was making Dean drunk with excitement the more certainly. Dean moaned into his brother’s ear as Sam was just kissing his jaw and his hand was ghosting over Dean’s belly. His pride was rubbing against Dean’s side; it was no impatient, violent motion. Suddenly Sam gave a short sigh and stopped. Dean looked at him disapprovingly.

“What’s up?”

“Shhh,” Sam’s fingers touched Dean’s mouth lightly, silencing him, and then he disappeared under the comforter.

“Sam? JESUS CHRIST! Aaagh…” Dean moaned and his body flexed as his erection was sheathed by wet heat that could be nothing else than Sam’s mouth into which he was coming. Holy crap, he was coming right into Sam’s mouth! Sam’s. Mouth. So warm. So wet. So careful…

Gasping, Dean was slowly coming down from his high, but Sam’s mouth was still there, his tongue stroking lightly the silky skin of Dean’s softening pride, cleaning. Finally Sam came out from under the comforter, blanketing Dean’s spent body.

“What was that?” Dean asked, breathless.

“How would you call it?”

“I don’t know. It was quick.”

Sam chuckled. “It’s not my fault someone here doesn’t have stamina.”

“It’s definitely your fault,” Dean said, removing the strands of hair falling into Sam’s eyes. Sam caught his hand and pulled to his mouth to deliver a small kiss into the palm.

“Did you like it?” he asked timidly.

Dean laughed. “Do you even need to ask?”

Sam smiled. “I guess not.”

Dean grinned. “Right. Now come to me. We should take care of you.” He spread his legs so that Sam could slip between them easily and take what he wanted. May he have chosen Dean’s heat in return for the warmth of his mouth, he could have it. Dean would have given it to him without any second thought.

But Sam didn’t choose it. He started rubbing his cock against Dean’s stomach, turning the slow, gentle rubs into hard thrusts as he was reaching his climax – and Dean felt disappointed a little about Sam’s choice. Whatever reason Sam had to refuse the obvious offer (at least Dean believed it was obvious), he didn’t share it with his brother. Judging from the careful way in which he was treating Dean as though he had been a fragile doll that could break any second if just Sam pressed a little harder, it might have been the fear of hurting his big brother in some way. Maybe Dean really _was_ that fragile and Sam was testing his own strength this way. Maybe he needed the slow pace to make sure he knew how to handle Dean without causing him any possible harm.

He was panting, his hips working the way to his orgasm in a frantic way, but there was still so much carefulness in it that Dean wanted to cry. He held Sam, hugging him close and whispering sweet nonsense into his ear. 

Dean wasn’t a saint and getting into women’s panties was never a problem for him. He couldn’t complain about the lack of experience: he knew bad sex, good sex and fan-fucking-tastic sex; he had got blowjobs that left him breathless and wonderfully spent; he had been given handjobs that made him think that even the wet warmth of a woman’s body couldn’t be any better. Yet, all that paled in comparison with a single touch of Sam’s hand, with just one of his sloppy kisses, with a sole glance of his hazel eyes hungry for Dean’s attention. Sam was able to do what Cassie or Lisa weren’t: he made Dean believe that he was worth being loved and that he deserved that. He made him believe in his own importance and showed him how someone’s happiness depended on his very presence. Sam was losing himself without Dean, losing the ability to distinguish between good and evil, between right and wrong, between normal and screwed. Dean became Sam’s conscience; he was his leader in Sam’s world of blood.

Dean hugged his brother tighter, the whispered “I love you” almost inaudible, but he knew Sam’s keen ears could catch it anyway.

Sam shivered and stained Dean’s belly with pearly white release. He sighed then and nuzzled Dean’s neck. “I love you, too.”

*

Dean watched the face of his brother sleeping beside him. This was the first time Sam didn’t snuggle to him, nevertheless Dean didn’t mind right now. Sam was lying on his stomach with the comforter reaching to his bandaged shoulder blades. His head was resting on his right hand while the other was tangled with Dean’s in a tight knot of fingers. He looked so peaceful and vulnerable... In the warm light of the flames from the fireplace his features appeared softer and something child-like crept into his expression.

Dean thought it was creepy… and perverted… and absolutely not right watching his brother sleeping with such fascination, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Maybe in Sam’s face he was looking for an answer to the question what they had been and what they had become. And what the thing developing between them was and whether it was right to cherish it like something sacred.

They were brothers – bound by blood, and tonight they became lovers. Their act wasn’t the result of Sam’s need or their craving for touch or the want to prove how much they needed each other. It was the result of the deepest love that brought them together like this. The act itself was spontaneous and none of them had known how far they would go. Their feelings led them, made them open their secret chambers where they stored their inner strength and drink from it.

Sam and Dean Winchester against the world. They were always strongest together.

Hope flooded Dean. It felt like it was pouring within him from Sam through their joined hands. Yes, together they could do miracles. They could beat Fate (the pig-headed blonde bitch) and make the best of their time left. As long as they were together. And Dean was sure like hell there was no one who could separate him from his brother.

*

When Sam woke up, it was still dark outside, but the dawn was already hanging in the air. The wet coldness was talking about snow and Sam could see tiny snowflakes dancing in the wind behind the window. The fire in the fireplace burned out long ago, so he huddled deeper under the comforter and shifted closer to the warm body beside him. He looked at Dean and then at their tangled hands and smiled. He took a deep breath, recognizing the faint smell of sweat and sex from the last night. Another smile, this time broader and content.

Sam sighed into the sheets. The wolf was awake and weary… and silent. It had been silent since the moment Sam crossed the path of the wolf pack – since he killed a few pack members. It didn’t dictate Sam what he was supposed to do anymore and definitely didn’t force him into new kills. It was watching him and waiting, and there was something devilish about it.

Sam’s head was clearer than it had ever been lately, but he knew it was just a matter of time when the wolf would strike again. And that it would be a hell of a strike, Sam was sure about that. He was most likely going to lose. His soul was already rotten through and through, keeping just the last bits of humanity Sam clung to while the wolf let him. But meanwhile the wolf was quiet, there was one thing Sam wanted to do – the last good thing this cursed existence was capable of. He would do this and he would be done with his human life…

He looked at Dean again and his stomach gave a loud growl. Crap, he was hungry and he could hardly stand on his own feet. The wound on his thigh still hurt, so it meant it needed more time. He sighed and puffed into his pillow. If he wanted to eat, he had no other choice but to wake his brother up. He couldn’t say he hated being so dependent on him, but Dean deserved rest. He did so much for his little brother and it frustrated Sam that he couldn’t do anything in return. Except that one thing he was thinking of a while ago. The last and the best one. Dean would be mad… Sam sniggered. No, Dean would be _furious_ , but if Sam’s mission was successful, he would be happy in the end. And that was all Sam wanted – make Dean happy.

He already made arrangements, now he was just waiting for the right time, and hopefully Dean wouldn’t want to shoot him with silver bullets in the end. Well… Sam kind of counted with a silver chain or a rope with silver fibers and curfew – but only if he failed, and that was what Sam refused to accept. He was so sure he would succeed that even Dean’s wrath couldn’t stop him. He had already made his mind.

But now he was hungry – damn it! – and he wanted to eat. Right now. He huffed into his pillow and then snuggled to Dean, burying his face into his favorite place in the crook of Dean’s neck.

“Deaaaan,” he whined when his brother didn’t react. Dean was already used to Sam’s constant cuddling to him and sometimes even Sam’s live weight across his chest couldn’t wake him up if he was sound asleep.

“Wake up, Dean. I’m hungry, wake up.” Sam puffed into Dean’s ear and bit gently the soft earlobe. “I wanna eat.”

Dean exhaled and turned his head to the window. “It’s still dark.”

“It’s breaking dawn. I’m hungry.”

His brother’s fingers combed the untidy hair away from Sam’s eyes. “Hungry like…?”

“Eat. I need to eat.”

“Eat, right. Good.”

Sam released Dean from under his body and his big brother sat up, yawning and rubbing his eyes, his hair sticking to every direction, and he smelled like sleep, sweet and warm, and he was absolutely gorgeous. Sam sighed longingly as he saw the broad shoulders in the faint light of the dawn and he reached out to touch the smooth skin on his brother’s back, because he wanted and he _could_.

“I’m sorry I’m waking you up this early,” he said, feeling guilty that he wasn’t able to wait any longer, but if he tried, he would have felt upset and that was never good. Even Dean knew that a fed Sam was a calm Sam, which meant no bitching, no looking for arguments and no escapes into the forest.

Dean turned to Sam, giving him a sleepy smile. “That’s okay.” He found his boxers lying somewhere on the floor and slipped them on before he left the bed. “Do you want toasts?”

Sam grinned. “Toasts are awesome.”

He waited patiently until Dean brought him a plate loaded with toasts and ham. Dean went back to sleep after that and Sam ate in absolute silence and contentment. The weekend couldn’t start any better.

*

Dean got up only three hours later. They ate breakfast together (Sam was starving again by that time) before he decided it was time to check Sam’s wounds. The ones on the back and the arms were healed and after Dean got Sam rid of the stitches, there stayed only silky scar tissues that both of them knew would disappear until the next day.

The wound on the thigh was another story. It wasn’t bleeding anymore, but the sight at the bared muscle was nothing nice anyway. Dean bandaged it again and forbid Sam to leave the bed except the short walks to the bathroom, but he helped Sam to get there.

Most of the day they spent in bed or while Dean was preparing lunch or dinner Sam sat at the table in the kitchenette and browsed the internet.

“Do you know who the heavenly healer is?” Sam asked, gazing at the computer screen.

“Raphael. I’ve found it as well. As long as I’m concerned, the son of a bitch is dead,” Dean replied from the stove.

Sam sighed. “I’m surely not thanking Cass for this…”

“Do you think the dick would help us? I strongly doubt that, so I don’t feel extremely sorry for his death. Maybe there’s some other angel with healing powers.”

Sam shrugged. “Have you found any?”

Dean stayed silent. He had looked, even tried to summon some angels despite knowing how dangerous it was. Some came, some never showed up. The ones who came told him how arrogant he was, threw him against a tree and disappeared. Just one angel was willing to talk to him, but his answer didn’t satisfy Dean. The angel said there was no one who could heal a damaged soul except the Healer himself. But the Healer was dead.

“I thought so,” Sam said when the silence lasted too long.

“I… thought about making a deal,” Dean started hesitantly.

Sam lifted his look from the screen. “You mean with a crossroads demon?” he asked cautiously.

Dean nodded, not looking back at Sam. He loaded a plate with roast beef and a few pieces of potatoes.

“No,” Sam almost cried. “No, I won’t allow you to do that.”

Dean turned to him abruptly, his eyes gleaming with suppressed anger. “What other options do we have? None!”

“A deal with a demon is no option. What good would come out of it? And… you would go to Hell. How can you do that to me again? No, no deals with demons.”

Dean sighed. He didn’t want to argue with Sam. “Put it away, we’re gonna eat,” he said, meaning the computer.

Sam shut the laptop and pushed it away so that his brother could put the plate in front of him. Dean sat at the table and started eating his own portion consisting mostly of potatoes and a bit of roast. He always gave almost all of meat to Sam.

He glanced at his brother. They had this conversation several times with the same result. Any time Dean brought up the deal, Sam refused it resolutely, getting mad. Dean understood him, but it didn’t mean he stopped thinking about this possibility. They weren’t meant to share the eternity obviously…

“You’re not gonna turn me either... are you?” he asked over his plate.

Sam stopped eating for a moment. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Yeah, sorry. Just making sure you didn’t change your mind.”

“I didn’t,” Sam said matter-of-factly, occupying himself with the food again.

Dean couldn’t help a small smile and started eating as well. “Okay, no deals, no turning into monsters… what are we gonna do, then?” he asked.

Sam swallowed a big piece of roast. “The same we’ve been doing so far. Looking for an option.”

“I just hope there are still any,” Dean muttered, piercing a potato with a fork.

*

The next day the wound on Sam’s thigh started itching like mad and he was nervous and bitchy for almost the whole time. Dean increased his share of meat, but it didn’t help. They argued in the very morning when Sam wanted to go for a walk and release some steam, but Dean didn’t allow him and made him stay in bed after he checked the wound.

“It needs at least one more day,” he reasoned.

“At least! The hell? I wanna go out! You can’t lock me here, I’m not your prisoner!”

“Shut up and rest. That’s all you can do.”

“I’m not your inferior, don’t command me!”

“You really want me to hurt you, don’t you?”

“Leave me alone, you’re infuriating.”

“ _I_ am infuriating? Look who’s speaking.”

“Go to hell, Dean.”

“… get stuffed, Sam.”

The argument made Sam even more upset. He hated fighting with his brother. When Dean brought him food to bed, he wanted to make up in some nice way, but when his hand stroked Dean’s crotch, his brother simply pushed him away.

“Not now, Sammy. Eat.”

After the rejection Sam’s frustration increased even more.

They made it till the evening somehow without killing each other. Dean took his time in the bathroom and when he got out, smelling of cleanness, instead of cuddling to him as he would have done normally, Sam looked at him awkwardly.

“I’m sorry for today,” he said sheepishly.

“May I check the wound?” Dean asked, ignoring Sam’s clumsy apology.

Sam nodded silently and let Dean unbind the bandage around his thigh.

“It looks much better. Heals fast. I think you’ll be able to go out tomorrow,” Sam’s brother said, his voice sounding kind of blank. It hurt Sam to hear that.

“Okay. Thank you,” he muttered, looking at Dean apologetically.

“I’m not gonna bandage it anymore. It should be all right.”

“Good.”

“Let’s go to bed now.”

“Dean…”

“I’m tired and I’m going to work tomorrow,” Dean said, getting under his comforter.

“Dean, I’m sorry.”

“Sleep, Sam.”

“Dean, please.” Sam lay across Dean’s chest.

“Dammit, Sam, you’re HEAVY!”

Sam didn’t roll away. He was staring into Dean’s eyes, begging for forgiveness. “Please, Dean. I’m sorry.”

Dean sighed. “I know you are. Go to sleep now.”

“You didn’t kiss me goodnight.”

Dean frowned. “What are you? Five?” But Sam didn’t stop staring, so he capitulated. He put his hand on the nape of Sam’s neck and pulled him down to give him a peck on the lips. “Now sleep.”

“May I cuddle to you?”

“You always cuddle to me.”

Sam understood it as permission to press close to his brother and put his head on Dean’s shoulder. “Are we good?” he asked timidly.

Dean sighed. “Sammy, please, go to sleep. I’m tired.”

“But…”

His mouth was plugged with a kiss and this one was proper and of the sort Sam hoped to get tonight. “Sleep,” Dean said after he broke the kiss.

Sam breathed out and settled comfortably against Dean’s firm body. “I love you.”

“Bitch,” the reply came, and it was the warmest thing he heard from Dean throughout the day.

“Jerk,” he said back, feeling a gentle slap at his head and his ears could catch a soft chuckle. “But I still love you,” Sam added with a grin.

“Good, that’s important,” Dean said into his hair and finally wrapped his arms around his brother. “You can be a true pain in the ass…”

“I know. Sorry.”

“I’m trying to do my best.” Dean’s voice was quiet, but serious.

“I know. And you’re great at it, Dean. You make me very happy.”

Dean sighed heavily. “Am I?”

“Yes. Definitely. I behave like an ass sometimes…”

“Most of the time,” Dean interrupted

“Okay, I deserved that,” Sam said. “But even if I’m being a jerk, I realize life without you is no life. You filled the gaps, you made me whole, and even when I’m mean to you I’m not doing it in order to hurt you. It’s just the way I cope with my own frustration. I’m sorry. You did so much for me and I can’t do anything for you.”

Dean pressed Sam closer. “That’s not true, Sammy. You give me support and that’s freaking much!” Sam opened his mouth to say something, but Dean stopped him. “Let’s go to sleep before we start talking in rhymes.” He smiled and kissed Sam’s forehead.

*

On Monday morning Sam woke up together with Dean, but didn’t leave the bed in order not to be in the way. Before Dean left for work, he fixed Sam big breakfast and checked his wound which was finally covered with a thin layer of skin.

They kissed goodbye, Dean promised to call Sam during the lunch break as usual and then left his little brother alone.

Sam got up and dressed; he ate the breakfast and tidied up the room. After that he looked around the place that had become their home months ago and he realized he didn’t feel attached to it at all. Not the place itself but the person with whom he shared the space made the cottage special. Sam was leaving Dean here and he was sure he would find Dean here as well when he returned. That was the only important thing about this place.

Sam packed his things without regret and felt amazed by the sole fact that everything he needed fitted perfectly into his duffel. Just like it should have. He grabbed his phone and left the cottage, heading for the road. Someone would take him to a town where he would be able to steal a car.

But at first he needed to send a message to Dean. He started typing…

*

A broad smile spread over Dean’s face when his phone beeped with incoming text message.

“Romeo typing?” his colleague teased him, but Dean just showed him the middle finger and read the message quickly. His expression turned from cheerful to confused.

_Had to leave. Be back till X-mas. Call u during lunch break. Luv u._

_What the hell?_

He wanted to call Sam right away, but he had so much work to do he didn’t have time for that and had to wait until the lunch break. He just pulled out his phone to call his idiotic brother when the thing started ringing, Sam’s name flashing on the display.

“Sam? What the hell, dude? Where are you?” he cried into the receiver. He could hear the sounds of traffic in the background.

“I’m sorry, Dean, but I had to do this,” Sam’s guilty voice sounded.

“Do what? Run away? Seriously, man?”

“I haven’t run away. I’ll be back till Christmas, I promise.”

“Where are you?” Dean demanded, feeling anger rising within him. And he was so damn worried on the top of that! What the freezing hell was this about?

“I can’t tell you.”

“The hell you can’t!” Dean exploded. “You tell me where you are right now!”

“I can’t, Dean,” Sam repeated in a soft voice. “I have to do this while I still can.”

“What _the fuck_ are you talking about?” Dean didn’t care about the outraged looks he got.

“I don’t know what happened, but I feel myself again…”

“You’re not yourself and you’ll ride your ass back home immediately!”

“Dean, let me explain. I can do this. I can control myself. The wolf is quiet.”

Dean ran his hand over his face in frustration. “You were bitchy just yesterday. Come back home or tell me where you are. We can do this together, whatever it is.” 

“No, we can’t. I have to do this alone,” Sam repeated stubbornly. “I’m sorry I made you worried, just… please, trust me in this, okay? I need you to trust me.”

Dean set his jaw, staying quiet. The bitch knew what words to use…

“Dean?”

“Fine,” he growled into the phone. “What do you want me to do?”

“Wait for me. Don’t follow me. I’ll call you soon, I promise.”

“Sam…”

“Love you.”

Before Dean even had a chance to respond, an engaged tone echoed in the receiver. “Love you too,” he said quietly and shoved the phone into the pocket of the pants he wore at work. He was ready to salt Sam’s ass as soon as the bitch got home. What did he think, making his big brother this worried! Idiot…

*

He barely came home and looked around the empty house, finding out nothing had really changed there, when his phone rang again.

“Yes?”

“Hi, it’s me, Sam,” sounded a cheerful voice.

“I know your name,” Dean replied coldly, even though he didn’t mean to. He was glad Sam was okay, at least he sounded like that, but he couldn’t help himself. How could the bitch be so cheerful when Dean felt like crap?

“You’re angry,” Sam stated, and that annoyingly light tone of his voice became heavier.

“No, Sam, I’m not angry. I’m _pissed_ ,” Dean replied, going to take some beer from the fridge.

“I’m sorry.” The cheerfulness disappeared completely from Sam’s voice. Dean felt a little guilty for that.

“You knew I’d get mad,” he said, sipping from the beer.

“Yes,” sounded hesitantly.

“And you left anyway.”

“Er… yes.”

“What was so important?”

“Can’t tell you, sorry.”

“Right,” Dean said with a sigh. “And you want me not to be pissed. What CAN you tell me?”

“I’m meeting up with Jody Mills tonight. She’ll keep an eye on me.”

Dean almost choked on the beer. “Excuse me?”

“I gotta go, Dean, I’m sorry. I’ll call you later,” Sam said suddenly. Dean could hear voices on Sam’s side of the line.

“Wait, Sam!” he called, but Sam didn’t listen to him anymore.

“I love you.”

“Sam!”

The hated engaged tone again.

“Damn!” Dean growled and threw the phone on the table. The response was deep silence in the room and the feeling of loneliness. Dean decided to go to sleep early that night so that he prevented himself from thinking about Sam’s absence. Nevertheless, the empty space beside him was reminding him constantly how much he missed his brother. It was so quiet in the room…

He was almost asleep when his phone rang for the third time that day. Dean crawled out from the warm bed only unwillingly.

“Hello?” he said into the receiver without checking the caller’s ID on the display.

“Dean, talk to me,” sounded pleadingly.

“What?” Dean’s mind woke up finally. “Sam? Did something happen to you?”

“No, I just miss you. Talk to me.”

Dean sighed, climbing back to bed, finding warmth under his comforter. “If you had stayed, you wouldn’t miss me now,” he said flatly.

“Dean…” Sam was a master in pleading, Dean had to admit. If not his puppy dog eyes, then his voice. Dean was damned.

“What do you want from me, Sam?”

“Talk to me for a while.”

Dean gripped the phone tighter. “Okay.” He could chat with Sam for a moment. It felt good to hear him anyway, to make sure he was all right. “Have you met Jody?”

“Yes, I’m at her place.”

“Did you…?”

“I told her everything about me. I need her to know in case… something happened.”

“Why couldn’t it be me?” Dean asked tiredly. He didn’t even try to pretend he didn’t feel betrayed. Sam left him and teamed up with a stranger. That kind of hurt.

“Love?”

“Yes?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“You could come here and grab me.”

Dean sniggered. “That’s right, I could.”

“Don’t do it unless I or Jody asks you to, okay? You would spoil the surprise.”

Dean blinked. “What?”

“You heard me. I’m not repeating it.” Mischief sounded in Sam’s voice. “I’ll be back till Christmas.”

“You better be. I’ve already loaded the shotgun with rock salt and I’ve started thinking about getting silver powder.”

Sam laughed nervously. “That wasn’t nice.”

“Be late just one day and I’ll show you not nice.”

“Okay, I get it,” Sam said. “I won’t be late.”

Dean huffed. “Good.” He yawned. “I’m tired, Sammy. I’m going to sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Yes, of course,” Sam said quickly. “Good night, Dean.”

“Good night. Be careful.”

“I’ll be,” Sam promised. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Sammy?” Dean said before Sam could hang up.

“Yes?”

“I love you. But I’m still pissed,” Dean blurted and pressed the button for disconnecting the call, not giving Sam a chance to reply.

He crawled deeper under the comforter, smiling contentedly, when his phone beeped with an incoming message: _Jerk. Luv u 2._ Dean grinned like a loon, not feeling lonely anymore.

*

Next day Dean got his usual text message in the morning saying some sweet nonsense only Sam could produce, but when he tried to call Sam during the lunch break, the bitch didn’t pick up. That made Dean a little bit nervous, but another message came in the afternoon, assuring him that Sam was okay, so he calmed down.

The evening was quiet and lonely until his phone rang and he could hear his brother’s voice.

“Hey there,” Sam said, gentleness sounding in his voice, and Dean could guess from his tone that his brother hoped he was finally forgiven.

“Hey,” Dean replied, smiling despite his effort not to. He didn’t want to be easy on Sam for running away and not saying anything. He deserved Dean to be cold and distant. Just… it was kind of hard. Especially when Sam’s “miss you” sounded in his ear.

“Then come back home,” he replied, opening a bottle of beer and drinking from it.

“Can’t yet.”

Dean sighed. “How’re you doin’?”

“Fine, I’m fine. Just a little bitchy…”

Dean laughed. “Sam, you’re NEVER _a little_ bitchy. You’re a true bitch.”

“Haha,” Sam said, but he sounded amused. “You are _so_ supportive.” 

“Anytime, babe,” Dean said with a smirk. “So… how’s Jody.”

“She’s kinda annoyed,” Sam said, which made Dean laugh again.

“I can imagine.”

“Er… she wants to speak with you,” Sam said, and Dean could hear unwillingness in his voice.

“Give her the phone,” he said, hearing Sam’s disapproving growl.

“Hello, Dean,” sounded in the phone after a while.

“Hi, Jody. How do the things go?”

“I don’t remember your brother having been this annoying,” Jody said while Dean could hear the sound of a closing door.

“Is he around?”

“No, I went to my room.”

“Okay. What did you want to talk to me about?”

“About Sam. I feel like shooting him in the back sometimes.”

Dean chuckled. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. That would only piss him off.” He sipped from the beer. “He told me he enlightened you about his problem.”

“Yes, at the very beginning. He told me that if he went mad, I was to use silver on him. He brought a gun loaded with silver bullets and he makes me carry it around. He even gave me a silver chain… what the D stands for?”

Dean froze. _Stupid little bitch!_ “Jody, don’t use it, please, unless you must. Silver is poison for him.” It amazed Dean himself how pleading and desperate his voice sounded. “He… He’s an idiot. If you don’t piss him off, he’s okay.”

“Dean, I know. All I want from you is to tell me how am I supposed to talk to him without wanting to send him right back to you. Everything I hear is ‘Dean would do this better’, ‘Dean wouldn’t give up so easily’, ‘If Dean were here, everything would go smooth’ and the crap like that. He’s pretty attached to you.”

“Umm…” Dean didn’t know what to say. “He… er… he’s like a dog looking up to his master,” he offered, knowing it didn’t sound convincing. “Look, he likes eating. A lot. Especially meat. Make sure he’s not hungry and he’ll be just half that annoying.”

“I cook…”

“Don’t cook. Just give him something raw. He’ll be happy.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“This is only the top of that, believe me,” Dean sighed.

“Fine. What else?”

“Sometimes he just… goes blank. He stares into distance and when he gets back he’s confused and doesn’t want to talk at all. If it happens, leave him alone.”

“Okay, got it. It hasn’t happened yet.”

“Don’t you want me to come?”

“No, Dean. It’s okay. I can deal with Sam a bit longer. If only the stupid bureaucracy didn’t slow down everything…”

“Bureaucracy? What are you two doing there?” Dean asked. This was interesting…

“Can’t tell you, sorry. But I can guarantee you’re gonna like it. Anything else I should know?”

“He became open. Sometimes too much. It can bring you into trouble. If he doesn’t like something, he’ll let you know in the most inappropriate way. Or time. If he gets pissed, he can’t really estimate his strength. He’s as strong as Superman, so it can be quite dangerous. Threatening him with silver usually helps.”

“Okay, thanks for advice. One more question.”

“Yes?”

“What am I supposed to do if he transforms?”

“You won’t even notice, I guess,” Dean sighed. “He hasn’t shifted for quite some time, so I’m not sure how long he will last. He won’t go after people, but may happen you’ll find animals torn into pieces.”

“Dear God…”

“Jody, if he sniffs a demon just by chance, get him as far away as you can from it.”

“Um… will I be able to do that?”

“You must. Demons are his most wanted prey.”

“Okay, I’ll do my best.”

“If you had a problem, call me. Anytime.”

“Of course. Thanks, Dean.”

“No problem.”

“I’ll give you back the asshole. He’s growling behind the door.”

Dean laughed half-heartedly. Growling… that didn’t sound good.

“Dean!” Sam cried into his ear after a little while.

“Turn the volume down, Sammy, my ear hurts.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I heard you were giving Jody hard time.”

Silence for a while.

“Am I?” Sam asked sheepishly.

“She said you were annoying. And not just a little. Are you being an asshole, Sammy? Are you complaining about every little thing?”

“I… I guess?”

“Sam, you asked her for help and you’re rude to her.”

“I… didn’t realize.”

“Okay. Now you know that you’re getting on her nerves, so do something with it, will you? I don’t wanna hear any complaints again. If you wanna stay and finish whatever you’re doing there, behave. Otherwise I’ll come to fetch you. Understood?”

“Yeah…”

“Good boy.” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. This was so screwed…

“I gotta go now. Can I call you when I go to sleep?”

“Yes, of course. I’ll be waiting.”

“See you soon.”

“See you, Sammy. Take care.”

Dean hung up and stood in the kitchenette for a long time with the phone in his hand. He wished to get in the car and go for Sam, but he promised he would trust him and wouldn’t follow him. But it wasn’t any easier to stay and just wait, especially when he didn’t know what Sam might have done without Dean keeping an eye on him.

He got to bed early again, waiting for Sam’s call. They talked until late night hour, and getting up in the morning was a true hell thanks to that. Yet, it didn’t stop Dean to do it again next evening. And the evening after. There were no more complaints about Sam; Jody even asked Dean how he managed that when she got to Sam’s phone again (to Sam’s utmost displeasure). He just laughed and said threats were the key. She got the meaning and Dean was sure Sam being annoying wasn’t a problem anymore. If Sam didn’t want to endanger his ‘mission’ and achieve his goal without being dragged home by Dean, he had to behave. And he did to everyone’s delight.

Sam called Dean as often as he could and if he couldn’t, he sent a message at least. Dean’s worries finally ceased. Sam was doing all right and Dean knew that the phone calls were responsible for that as well. It happened sometimes that Sam’s voice sounded upset, but after a few minutes of talking to Dean he was cheerful again. He only missed Dean terribly. But he didn’t want to stop and just come back home, no matter how many times Dean suggested that.

“I need to finish this,” he said.

“Is it worth all of this?” Dean asked.

“Yes, it is,” Sam replied.

“Okay, Sammy. I can wait a bit more. You’ll be back on Christmas, anyway.”

“Yes, I’ll be,” Sam’s voice warmed up a bit. “I can’t wait.”

Dean chuckled. “You were the one who left.”

“Asshole. I love you.”

“Love you too, bitch. Don’t cheat on me.”

“Funny,” Sam said sarcastically. “Shouldn’t I be the one worried?”

“You definitely should. I hit on your comforter every night. It didn’t say ‘no’ a single time.”

Sam laughed. “You’re such a jerk.”

“Because you’re as sweet as a lollipop, right?”

“Miss you.”

“Then stop whining into my ear, finish your task and come back home. I need you to clean my throat from inside.”

“Bleh, Dean, what a vocab. When I get back, I’ll take care not only of your throat.”

“I hope so,” Dean said with a grin, even though Sam couldn’t see him.

“Just wait.”

“I’m going nowhere.”

“See you soon.”

“Yep, see ya, baby.”

“Jerk.”

Dean hung up, laughing. Sam was… sweet in some way. And for the first time in his life Dean felt a childish joy of coming Christmas. He couldn’t wait to see Sam again – the best Christmas present he could get. 

*

It was short after dark when Dean’s phone rang for maybe sixth time that day.

“Hey, Sammy,” he said cheerfully. “Missed my sexy voice?”

“Dean, I… I’m afraid I’ll transform tonight,” Sam’s voice had the color of a plea for help. Dean already knew it perfectly. Sam hoped Dean would come up with something.

Dean stiffened. “Where are you? Are you at home?”

“Yeah.”

“Where’s Jody?”

“She has a night shift.”

“Good, that’s good. Sam, I need you to trust me, okay?”

“I trust you, Dean.” Annoyance slipped into Sam’s voice as though he wanted to say that his trust in Dean was doubtless and saying anything else offended him.

“That’s great. Where do you sleep? Do you have your own room?”

“Yes, Jody let me stay in the guest room.”

“Perfect. Go there.”

“I’m there.”

“Very well.” Dean took a deep breath. “Now strip. I want you to get naked.”

“What?” Sam’s voice sounded alarmed. “Are we… are we gonna have phone sex?”

“Damn straight. Take off your clothes, bitch. Do it for me, come on.”

“Is it a good idea?”

“Do you prefer going out and killing a neighbor’s dog?”

“How do you know there’s a dog?”

“There’s always a dog. Don’t change the topic, dammit! I’m already half-naked.”

“You’re not,” Sam said, convinced.

“Wanna argue with me? I’ve just come out from under the shower.”

“Holy crap…”

“What?”

“You must smell heavenly.”

Dean didn’t know what to say. The bitch’s words turned him on more successfully than any porn. “Um… thanks.” He coughed. “Concentrate.” He could hear rustle of clothes in the phone. Sam probably switched the phone to the speaker. Dean thought he should do the same.

“I’m naked,” Sam said. Dean pictured his strong, muscled body spread over clean sheets and his boxers suddenly felt a bit tight.

“Good, Sammy,” he said, licking his lips. “Now imagine I’m there and I can touch every freaking inch of your gorgeous body. Imagine my lips on your skin. Imagine all of that and touch yourself the way I would touch you if I were there.”

He could hear Sam’s soft sigh. Dean sighed himself. He lay on the bed, putting the phone on Sam’s pillow beside himself. He let his hand slide down his chest to his stomach where it hesitated only for a moment until it slipped under the waistband of his boxers and his fingers curled around his own pride.

“Sam?”

“… yeah?” Sam was panting quietly.

“Are you hard?”

“Fucking God with Jesus Fuck and all the damned saints!” Sam cried, a wolf’s growl echoing in the undertone. By hearing that Dean’s excitement dropped.

“I take it for yes,” he said, letting go of his still half-hard cock. “Stroke yourself. Gentle, slow strokes at first, exactly the way you like it. Come one, Sammy.”

Sam growled quietly. “I’m stroking myself.”

“Do it slow.”

“Dammit, Dean!”

“Slow.”

Sam whined.

“No cheating.”

“Screw you.”

Dean chuckled. “Be a good boy, or I won’t let you hear my own climax.”

Sam moaned. “Shit, blackmailer.”

“Don’t doubt that, sunshine,” Dean said, imagining Sam’s impatient hand on his even less patient cock. “You can speed up, but just a little.”

“Yes!”

“Just A LITTLE.”

“Fuck, Dean…” Sam groaned.

“No, Sammy, it’s called a ‘handjob’. Now go rough. Jerk yourself off to the climax. Come on, baby, I wanna hear you.”

“Pervert,” Sam said, breathless. His quiet pants coming from the phone echoed in the small room.

“Damn,” Dean whispered. He took off his boxers and reached for his dick again, jerking off himself. “Come on, love, let me hear you.”

There was a gasp on the other side of the line and then a tense silence for a while.

“I came,” Sam’s voice sounded in the room again.

“Perfect,” Dean replied, his hand still on his cock. “How do you feel?”

“Better. Much better. Thank you.”

“You won’t turn tonight, will you?” Dean asked in order to make sure.

“I don’t think so. I’m spent.”

“Good. Before you fall asleep go to the shower. And don’t forget to air the room. You didn’t come on the sheets, did you?”

“No,” Sam’s voice sounded sleepy.

“All right. Now shower, Sam.”

“You’re a devil.”

“It’s actually you, but whatever. Go.”

The rustle of sheets told him that Sam obeyed and got up. “I love you, Dean,” he said gently.

“When you get back home, you’ll show me how much. Now shower and go to sleep.”

Sam’s soft chuckle delighted his ears. “Promise. Good night.”

“Good night, baby.”

Dean disconnected the call and sighed, glancing at his hard-on. He could go to the shower himself. Again. Perfect…   

*

Next time Dean didn’t get out of it so easily. Sam, accusing him of cheating the last time, demanded to hear Dean’s orgasm while having phone sex again, and only then the bitch was willing to come himself. It was dirty, it was twisted, but both of them enjoyed it. Dean would have sworn that Sam enjoyed it much better when he knew Jody was in the next room and she could hear his every groan. Not that Sam was being loud… no, he was a silent lover. But the sole fact that Jody could walk into his room any moment (she would certainly knock on the door beforehand and not burst in) turned him on quite effectively. Dean would never have said that Sam was a public type…

They managed to silence the wolf for some time, but as Christmas was coming nearer and Sam’s mission still didn’t see an end, the beast struck. After Sam’s panicked call Dean told Jody to take Sam somewhere outside the town and let him have his freedom. She didn’t like the idea, of course, this was too personal (and hey! She was going to see Sam’s naked ass!), but there was no other choice. Sam needed his kill and as long as she didn’t want him to gank every dog in the vicinity, she did it.

Sam wasn’t easy on her either. The wolf not only pushed him into the kill, but robbed him of words again. Jody brought back an animal and when she called Dean, he could hear the suppressed panic in her voice hidden under the layer of anger. It wasn’t easy to calm her down. When she finally gave the phone to Sam, Dean commanded him to take shower and not to dirty Jody’s clean sheets, and then he ordered him to stay at home unless the words came back to him. The only answers were quiet whines and growls; it was really like talking to an animal.

Jody was calmer next day, she even apologized for the freak-out. From her words Dean guessed that Sam was hiding in his room and didn’t come out the whole morning. He didn’t want to talk to Dean either. It was the time when it was better to leave him alone.

It was just three days till Christmas and Dean had just one day of work. He wondered whether Sam would manage to come, they hadn’t seen each other for two weeks already. The day was quiet, the phone stayed mute and Dean didn’t call, knowing Sam wouldn’t have picked up anyway. The period of blankness could last a couple of hours and he was sure Sam would text him at least if he was okay again.

The day turned into afternoon and still no message came. Dean gave up and called Sam’s number. He was directed to the voicemail immediately. Dean growled and left a message: _What’s up with you, Sam? Call me as soon as you can. I’m worried, man, this takes too long._

An hour later Jody called from Sam’s phone, telling Dean that Sam wasn’t there.

“What do you mean he’s not there?” he barked into the phone. “Where is he? Why didn’t you keep an eye on him?” He wasn’t fair, he knew that, but he was hell worried. What if Sam turned for good?

“I don’t know, Dean,” Jody replied coldly. “I had my shift; someone here has to go to work.”

Dean sighed, frustrated. “I’m sorry. Do you have any idea where he could go?”

“I don’t. That’s why I’m calling. What are his favorite places?”

The fighting spirit finally left Dean. “We have forests here, he’s used to going there. I don’t know what he does there, I never follow him. It’s his time.”

Jody sighed. “Let’s hope this is just a walk around the neighborhood…”

“Yeah… Let me know when he comes back.”

“I will,” Jody said and then hesitated for a moment. “Wait, I think he’s back.”

Dean’s heart started beating faster. “Is he all right?”

“Wait a sec.”

He could hear steps and the sound of closing door. Then Jody’s clear voice broke the silence: “Sam! Thank goodness you’re back. Dean wants to talk to you.”

He didn’t hear Sam’s reply; there wasn’t any as he guessed. He heard Sam’s voice in the receiver in a moment:

“Dean?” It sounded shy and frightened.

“Sammy, thank God. Where have you been? We’ve been worried about you.”

“I needed a walk.”

“You should’ve let us know. You should’ve let Jody know at least. Why haven’t you text me for the whole freaking day?”

“I… I couldn’t. I’m sorry.”

“Couldn’t! Sam, you just needed to press two keys! O and K.”

“Dean, I couldn’t!” Anger slipped into Sam’s voice.

“You didn’t need to text, then. You could call. I had the phone with me the whole time, I always have, you know that.”

“Dean, what part of ‘I couldn’t’ don’t you understand?” Sam barked into the phone. “I’m sorry I made you worried, but what would I tell you? I didn’t remember a freaking word except your name! I needed to go out. I wanted to be left alone for a while. I did nothing else than I normally do at home.” He took a deep breath.

“Sam…” Dean wanted to use the intermezzo, but Sam interrupted him.

“I trust you unconditionally. Why can’t _you_ trust _me_ for once?” he said angrily.

Dean didn’t think about his reply. “Because I don’t know what I can expect from you,” he blurted and only then realized what he said. He heard a thud in the receiver, telling him that something fell down on the floor and Jody’s voice calling Sam sounded as though from distance.

“Sam!” Dean cried into the phone. “Sammy!”

“Dean, here’s Jody,” he heard. “What did you tell him? He dropped the phone and ran into his room.”

 _Dammit._ Dean bit his lip nervously. “I was an ass,” he said. “Leave him alone, I’ll call later.”

He disconnected the call with a heavy feeling. If Sam was going to transform again, it would be Dean’s fault because he made him upset. How could he tell him something like that, knowing how sensitively Sam reacted to every remark about him being untrustworthy? This surely wasn’t the thing Dean wanted to tell him. He wanted to make him understand how much worried he made his big brother, that was all. Dean knew how it frustrated Sam when he went blank (as they used to call the absence of words) and maybe it really was a problem for him to contact Dean, but he got obviously better till the call, so why couldn’t he let his brother know he was all right sooner? Dean had been dying to know everything was fine.

Dean called his brother again shortly before he went to sleep. This time Sam picked up.

“Sammy, I’m sorry,” Dean said.

“No, you were right. You can’t know what I’ll do next,” Sam said, his voice toneless.

“I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry,” Dean tried to apologize one more time. “You just need to understand I’m worried about you. It has nothing to do with the trust.”

“How come?” Sam asked doubtfully.

“Sammy, would I let you stay with Jody even though I don’t know what you two are up to if I didn’t trust you enough?”

There was thoughtful silence on the other side until Sam said “Go on.”

“I’m sorry to say that, but… I can see how I’m losing you. We’re not any closer to the cure than we were at the beginning and I’m afraid, Sammy… I’m afraid of the moment when you don’t return to me anymore.”

“I… won’t give up,” Sam said, his voice broken but determined.

“I know you won’t. But I can’t help myself to be afraid of another Stanford.”

“What?”

“The day you left for school. I thought you were not going to return… When I saw it in Heaven as a happy moment of your life…”

“Dean, listen to me now. We shouldn’t talk about it through the phone, but apparently I need to explain some things. I left for Stanford full of hope that I was going to become a man equal to you and Dad. I hoped – _believed_ – that I was leaving behind the kid you both thought I was. I believed that when I returned to you one day, I’d be the man worth your respect.” He laughed sadly. “Never happened. You still considered me to be the kid you were supposed to protect.”

Dean ran a hand over his face. “Sammy…”

“I hoped I’ll stop loving you as well. I had enough of the fear that one day you wouldn’t come back from a hunt. I didn’t want to be there when it happened. I didn’t want to live with that fear anymore.”

“Sam…”

“It was the day of a new hope, the beginning of a new life. I felt free to do anything I wanted. I wanted to be normal, not a freak… and look what I’ve become. I’m the Devil’s vessel, I fed on demon blood to get strong – heavens, how _stupid_ I was – I saw you dying hundreds of times, I lost my soul and did terrible things, I got it back and almost broke down, I’ve turned into this! I went through Purgatory and pushed my brother into this perverted relationship! I screwed you. But you know what? I’m happy! I look into your eyes and I can’t hold back anymore. I touch your skin and I’m gonna explode with pleasure. I kiss you and I think I’m in Heaven. I’m happy. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“Sammy, please…” Dean whispered into the phone, not even knowing what he was begging for. Did he want Sam to shut up? Did he want him to stop tearing the old wounds open? Every single word was like the stab of a sharp blade right into the most sensitive place.

“I’m sorry for making you worried.” Sam’s voice became softer. “Good night.”

He didn’t give Dean a chance to reply. Dean put the phone on the table and reached for whiskey instead, hoping there was another bottle stored somewhere. He needed a proper drink tonight… 

*

The shriek of incoming message woke him up at half past ten in the morning. Dean squinted at the table where the devilish device lay and huddled deeper under the comforter. His head felt like it was going to explode any minute and heavenly silence in the cottage was priceless. Another good thing was that sun wasn’t shining (even though the daylight still appeared annoyingly strong to Dean). The sky was veiled by heavy clouds and it was snowing.

Dean spent another hour in bed until he finally decided to get up and fix himself a cup of strong black coffee. Only when he was sitting at the table and cradling the steaming beverage in his hand, sipping from it, he was willing to check the message. It was from Sam:

_Wont be in touch 4 a while. Call u ASAP._

Dean rested his head against the hard wood of the table. He hoped the message didn’t mean Sam was still upset about their last conversation. It was enough Dean wasn’t able to get over it; it didn’t need to be both of them...

He finished the coffee and crawled back to bed, cursing whiskey for getting him into this state. What would Sam have said if he had seen him? And did it even matter?

Hunger drove him out from the sheets in the afternoon. He ate a small snack and forced himself to go out to breathe fresh air. Meanwhile, it stopped snowing, even though the clouds were still heavy. The path leading to the cottage was totally covered with snow, so Dean brought a shovel and set to work. The physical activity could only do him good.

Sam didn’t call or text for the whole day so Dean tried to call him in the evening after he set fire in the fireplace. His call was redirected to the voicemail. He sighed and tried to call again before he went to sleep. The phone was ringing but Sam didn’t pick up.

It was late at night and he was already sleeping when he got a message that woke him up: _Couldnt pick up. Its l8. Call u tomorrow_.

Dean sighed and went back to sleep.

He got up early in the morning. It was the day when Sam was supposed to come back home, that was why Dean couldn’t sleep and rather than staying in bed a bit longer in the morning he got up, ate small breakfast and started cleaning the house. It was Christmas, normal people did the cleaning, and as long as Sam and Dean pretended to live in a normal household, Dean could do something what normal people did as well. There was nothing better to do, anyway, and Dean needed to kill the time of waiting for his brother somehow.

Instead of a tree (they didn’t have a stand for that) he brought several branches and put them into a glass he found in a cupboard. He was just thinking what he should decorate it with when his phone rang. He snatched for it like a dog for a stinking bone.

“Sammy?”

“Hey!” Sam’s voice sounded in his ear.

Dean gave a sigh of relief. “How are you?”

“I’m… fine. Yeah, I’m fine. You?”

“Never been better.”

Sam’s soft chuckle made Dean smile. “Liar.”

“You wish,” Dean said, still feeling the heaviness of their last conversation.

“Well…” Sam’s tone turned serious and Dean’s stomach tightened. “About today… I’m not sure I’m gonna make it.”

For a few seconds Dean stayed absolutely speechless. “You mean… like… you’re not coming today?” he asked slowly after a while.

“I think I’ll need one more day…”

“But… you promised.”

Sam gave a long sigh. “I know. I’ll be back tomorrow, successful or not. I’ll come.”

“Sam.” Dean didn’t like the idea. Not at all. “Is it really that important? Can’t you just stop and come home finally?”

“Sorry. I want to finish this.”

“Why? What is it that you care so much?”

“It’s the last good think I can do for you…” Sam said quietly.

“For me?” Dean decided to ignore the part about the ‘last thing’. “Whatever it is, I don’t want it. I want _you_ _here_.”

“Dean…” Pain sounded in Sam’s voice. “It’s important for me. I want to bring this to an end.”

“Sammy, I’m worried. And… I miss you.” Maybe attacking Sam with his own weapons would help. Dean hoped at least.

Sam whined silently. “Miss you too. You don’t know how much.”

“But you’re still not coming today.” _Stubborn bitch!_

“Tomorrow, I promise.”

Dean sighed and closed his eyes for a moment to recover his poise. “Do what you must, just come back to me safe and happy.”

“Thank you, Dean. I love you.”

“Yeah, love you too, bitch. Take care.”

He disconnected the call and threw the phone on the table next to the glass with the branches smelling of sap.His good mood was gone and he didn’t feel like doing anything to make this place cozy and ready for Christmas anymore. Where was the point? Sam was not coming today…

He took the laptop, opening his formerly favorite web site BustyAsianBeauties.com and entertained himself with pictures of naked women. Dean probably developed some liking for Sam’s cock, but it didn’t mean big breasts didn’t interest him anymore. It wasn’t cheating. It was what a normal, healthy, heterosexual man would do, even though he was romantically involved in a homosexual relationship with his own brother. That one little fact didn’t prove anything!

He realized very soon that he was bored. Even the busty ladies couldn’t prevent him from feeling disappointed and lonely. He wanted Sam back… He put the computer away and brought Grimms’ Fairy Tales. Sprawled over the couch, he was reading the stories and found out that Cinderella could be quite a chick and the wolf from the story about the Little Red Riding Hood was just a poor werewolf who couldn’t control himself anymore. Just like Sam… Dean wondered how their story was going to end. Would he end up like the Little Red Riding Hood, killed by the big bad wolf? Dean would have given anything to Sam, even his own blood if it had helped to keep Sam safe and sane.

He shut the book and pushed it away. One more day. One more day of worry. But he had no other choice but to trust his little brother. Dean clung to that trust because there was nothing else he could do. Tomorrow, Sam would be with him again.

He was sulking in bed till early afternoon when Sam called him again.

“What are you planning for Christmas dinner?” the cheerful voice asked Dean, who really wasn’t in a mood to deal with anything that made Sam happy and him frustrated. He wanted Sam to share the happiness with him. Why was it all top secret?

“Toasts probably. And some beer,” he said blankly, burying his head deeper into the pillow.

“Come on, man. That’s poor even for you. You should make something tasty and nutritious.”

“Really? And why?”

“Because it’s Christmas and one hungry werewolf is coming for dinner.”

Dean sat up abruptly, holding the phone tighter. “You’re coming?” he tried to keep his voice even, but he couldn’t prevent excitement slipping into the undertone.

“Yup. People are more willing to help you today, so things went much smoother and I’m on my way home right now.”

 _Yes!_ Dean shouted in his head, but he didn’t want Sam to know how happy it made him. “Sam, if you call me later and say you can’t make it, I’ll kick your ass.”

Sam laughed. “I won’t. I’m coming.”

“Okay. Because the shotgun is still loaded. You’re not getting out of this easily, kid.”

Sam snorted. “Don’t play with guns, old man, you may get hurt.”

“You’re a rude brat, you know that?”

“Maybe, but I know something you don’t and that gives me the right to be.”

“Don’t be so cocky. What if I don’t like whatever you have for me?”

Sam laughed as if Dean said something extremely funny. “Well, baby, I have to go if I want to come home soon.”

“Be careful. And don’t call me baby… bitch.”

“Jerk. Seen you in a few hours.”

After the call Dean’s mood improved rapidly. He took a shovel and went out because the white son of a bitch started falling again. When he returned after almost an hour he made fire in the fireplace. Then he crawled to bed with the laptop and killed the time with searching the web for a lead to anything that could help Sam, ending up reading about crossroads demons. He bit his lip. Maybe it was time to find Crowley; the ass owed them some little help.

*

He was occupied with another story of brothers Grimm (Rapunzel? What the hell was that for a name? Her parents must truly have hated her…) when he heard it. The sound that he would never have mistaken for any other. The sound that he heard since he was born and grew up with it. The sound of power and freedom and home, the sound he loved most of all.

And then there was silence for a moment until the very familiar screech was heard. Dean was silent, holding his breath, his body all tense. He listened intently to the sounds coming from outside, muffled by the walls and the closed door of the cottage. 

“Dean!” It was Sam’s voice calling him.

Dean shut the book slowly and got up from the bed. He still wasn’t sure whether he was hallucinating or… he was hallucinating. It could hardly be true, right? It could hardly be his baby, the love of his life; Sam could hardly bring her… couldn’t he?

“Dean, I know you’re there, I can smell you! Come out!”

“Shut up, bitch! You’re messing up with my fantasies!” What else could it be if not a fantasy?

He heard a laugh. “Will you come out or shall I go for you?”

Dean thought about it for a while. He didn’t remember a djinn getting him. Could it be some demon trick? “Okay, I’m going out. But I warn you, I’m armed.” He took the shotgun and stepped to the door, opening it slowly.

Sam was leaning casually against the black hood of the Impala, and if this wasn’t a hallucination, then something was terribly wrong with the world. Or terribly right. Dean couldn’t say right now.

“Sammy?” The shotgun fell out from his hands. “Is it true? Is it my baby?”

Sam gave him a broad smile as he straightened up and the look of his deep hazel eyes landed on Dean. “Is it so hard to believe?”

Dean came out hesitantly, going round the car from the other side than Sam stood, and touched the cold metal. It was hard and solid and real. “You’ve brought my baby,” he said, still amazed and unable to wrap his mind around the fact that this important part of his life was back.

“I have,” Sam said gently, watching Dean patiently.

Dean ran his hand over the hood from the carburetor to the trunk. He raised his head to look at Sam. “Can I keep her?”

Sam chuckled. “Yes, it’s your car. Always been. Jody helped to clear as much mess in the federal database as she could, but even she couldn’t do miracles. Anyway, she and I managed to make the two of us just small and unimportant fish in the pond, so as long as we keep low profile...” He grinned.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean exclaimed, and awe settled in his face. “How long have you been planning this?”

Sam shrugged. “A while. But there was never a good time… until I crossed the path of those wolves and…” He shrugged again.

“It calmed you enough,” Dean finished for him.

“Yes, it made the beast shut up.”

Dean came up to Sam standing by the door on driver’s side of the car. He took a deep breath… and then opened the door and got in. It was incredible sitting there again, breathing the smell of leather and gas and have his hands on the steering wheel. Dean couldn’t stop touching all the things he loved and cherished: the gear, the radio, the glove compartment, pedals, old cassettes, every scratch and every blemish… This was his baby. The part of who he was.

Sam opened the door on the passenger’s side and huddled his big body into the seat next to Dean. “Merry Christmas,” he said softly. 

Dean glanced at him… and leaned in to press a tender kiss on Sam’s lips. It was just a moment and when it was over, he was occupied with running his hands over the dashboard and the steering wheel again. The keys were still in the ignition. Dean touched them, too, and then started the car. The purr of the Impala delighted his ears. He grinned.

Sam’s hand touched his thigh lightly and when Dean looked at him, his brother was smiling. Sam got out from the car without saying a word, walking into the warm room of the cottage, leaving Dean alone with his baby.

*

Sam looked around the room and smiled for himself. The room was unnaturally tidy, but there were little details that told Sam that it was just something his brother did out of boredom or just because he didn’t know what to do with the time and not because he really meant to do it. The branches in the glass on the table were put there with as little care as only someone whose mind was miles away could produce. There was no sign saying something about Christmas dinner.

Sam found a nice piece of meat in the fridge, obviously meant for the evening but for some reason it was still there and not in the oven. He rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands properly before he started his work on the Christmas dinner.

A content smile didn’t leave his face even though he was still alone in the cottage and Dean was out, playing with his beloved car. When Sam had seen those sparkles in Dean’s eyes, he had known he achieved his goal. He didn’t know what he had expected really. Dean could be quite loud when something delighted him, but that all was just little, unimportant things. The silent joy Sam could experience a while ago was the true thing, deep and strong… and intimate.

Sam chopped a few potatoes (all for Dean, because he didn’t like such things anymore) and put them into the oven together with the meat. He was just thinking what to do with the branches, how to decorate them, when Dean finally walked in. They exchanged silent looks that were more eloquent than any words.

Sam’s brother scanned the kitchenette with a trained eye, his look stopped on the oven.

“What are you doing?”

Sam smiled. “Dinner.”

Dean just nodded and stayed quiet.

Sam gestured towards the branches in the glass. “What did you plan to put on these?”

Dean shrugged. “I didn’t get that far in my thoughts.”

Sam smirked. “Bring some paper and scissors.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, giving Sam a puzzled look. “For what?”

“You’ll see.”

“We have only newspaper.”

Sam laughed. “Will serve the purpose as well.”  

Dean shrugged and brought the things, curious what Sam would do with them. Sam took the newspaper and folded it, then he started cutting something that painfully resembled to a snowflake.

“Dude, you must be kidding!” Dean cried, amused, watching Sam’s work. When Sam unfolded the paper that stayed in his hands, a chain of newspaper snowflakes appeared in front of Dean’s eyes.

Dean laughed. “You’re such a girl, Sammy.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, smirked and reached for another sheet of paper. Dean watched his hands, cutting out something similar to a small figure.

“Don’t tell me it’s an angel,” Dean said with a frown.

“Does it have wings?” Sam asked and showed Dean a bow-legged paper doll. “It’s you, _angel_.”

“Not nice, Sammy, not nice.” Dean took the scissors from Sam. Sam wanted to see what he was cutting, but Dean didn’t let him. “It’s a surprise,” he said with a snicker.

When he unfolded the paper after a while, he showed Sam a chain of… penises.

“This is you,” Dean said with a grin.

“Dick,” Sam said, chuckling. “It’s you.”

“No, it’s definitely you.”

“Not true. It’s you.”

Sam didn’t know how they ended up kissing, but it didn’t matter. Sam’s whole body was crying for Dean, Dean, Dean… He couldn’t stop.

It was the smell from the oven that made them tear away from each other.

“Dinner’s done!” Sam said contentedly and started sharing the food on plates. Dean was watching him and the dreamy smile on his face couldn’t escape Sam’s attention. “What?”

“Nothing. Let’s eat.”

They ate in silence (while they ate), but they couldn’t help themselves to share kisses every now and then. Those moments were filled with quiet sighs of their names spoken with passion and giving them a new color. They needed to remind themselves that there was food and it was getting cold… and they ended up kissing again after a few minutes.

“I’m going to shower. To wash the smell of the road away,” Sam said when he finally managed to empty his plate (he was faster than Dean), standing up from the table.

“Mmm, you smell of my baby,” his brother said with a smile.

Sam chuckled. “No, I smell of sweat and dust.” He delivered a brief kiss on Dean’s lips. “I’ll be back in a few.”

“May I fantasize about you under the hot stream?” Dean asked teasingly.

Sam laughed. “Wicked.”

Dean grinned and shrugged, eating slowly.

It took Sam longer than he intended, but it was all Dean’s fault! If the jerk hadn’t said anything about dirty fantasies and Sam hadn’t spent half of the time imagining how it would have been like if he had been there with his brother... he imagined the thin streams of hot water running down that gorgeous body…

It took him some time to calm down and convince his cock that it wasn’t a good time for a hard-on.

When he got out, Dean gave him a startled look of someone who was just caught by doing something illegal.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Dean said quickly and stood up, slipping past Sam into the bathroom. “My time for a shower,” he said, and Sam noticed the pinkish shade in Dean’s cheeks.

While Dean was in the bathroom, Sam washed the dishes and decorated the branches with the snowflake paper chain. Then he got to bed, waiting for Dean to join him. He found the book of fairy tales among the crumpled bedclothes. A gentle smile played on Sam’s lips and he put the book away.

He sighed quietly. There was one more thing he wanted to give Dean – he wanted to give it to him for years, but he was afraid of the reaction and even now he didn’t want to spoil the mood. Maybe he would give it to Dean later… Maybe on his birthday… And maybe never…

Dean came out from the bathroom, smelling beautifully of water and cleanness. He wore only boxers and Sam couldn’t stop gazing at him as Dean came up to the bed, the pinkish shade still coloring his cheeks.

“I… have something for you too,” he said and his look dropped to the floor as if he wasn’t sure about his own words. He bit his lip nervously, playing with something he held in his hands.

Sam sat up. “What is it?” he asked gently, trying to help Dean out. He couldn’t imagine why Dean was so shy suddenly.

Dean coughed and handed Sam the thing he had been holding. It was a small box and Sam didn’t want to believe it was what it was until he had a good look at it.

“You’re giving me condoms?” His puzzlement must have been too obvious and too wrong. Dean apparently hoped Sam would get the message, but he disappointed him. “What for?”

Dean frowned. “What do you think condoms are for?” he asked, and his voice trembled with nervousness and embarrassment.

“I know what condoms are for. What I don’t know is why you think I need them.”

Dean gave a frustrated huff. “You can be so slow sometimes…”

Sam thought that it wasn’t the best time to reply something of the similar sort. Dean was obviously trying to say him something, he just couldn’t find the right words.

“Dean, you know I wouldn’t…” Sam started slowly.

“I know,” Dean interrupted him sharply, but then sighed and got to bed as well. He touched Sam’s chest hidden under the layer of fabric of a T-shirt hesitantly. “But… if it was me?” he asked quietly, glancing at Sam from under the heavy eyelashes.

Sam’s eyes widened with the sudden knowledge. His dreams, his dirty fantasies – were they really coming true? The call of his body… the call of the wolf.

“No,” he said, hearing how bitterness slipped into his voice. “I can’t.”

He could see Dean’s confusion. His brother didn’t count with rejection. “Why not?”

“If you’re doing it just because you want to keep me calm… to keep the wolf calm… please, don’t. Don’t do this,” he said like in a trance. Dean was so gorgeous, so perfect, so committed…

Dean frowned. “Do you think I’m doing it to keep the chain around your neck tight? Do you think I’m sacrificing myself in order to keep your inner demon quiet for a little longer?”

“Er… aren’t you?” Sam asked timidly, and it seemed it was the worst thing he could say.

“Yes, it’s exactly what I want. To be fucked in the ass by a werewolf who can’t control himself and I really think that sacrificing myself as his sex toy could prevent him from shifting!” Dean spat. “Newsflash! I don’t care anymore, I know I can’t prevent that. I thought there was something more between us, I thought you knew that. Why the hell would I offer myself to you like some cheap slut if I didn’t expect something in return?”

“Because you always do that?” Sam offered. “You always sacrifice yourself in order to keep me safe and happy. You always give everything away. Just like when you made the deal and went to Hell, just like you’re doing it now. You gave your life away for me again instead of letting me stay in the afterlife. You always do that, Dean, and you get angry when I think this time is no exception?”

He could see that Dean’s fighting spirit faded away; his brother was gazing at Sam with pained expression.

“Dean, I don’t want you to do it because you think I need it. Don’t do it for me. Just… don’t.”

Dean breathed in. “You shithead, you don’t listen to me, do you?”

Sam tilted his head to the side, frowning slightly. Did he miss something?

Dean sighed, shifting closer. “I say it just once, so listen carefully. I want you, Sam, that’s why I’m doing this. I have no intention of becoming your fuck toy. I want to be your lover with everything it involves. Yes, I wanna give, but I want to take as well. And I will, Sam, so prepare for it.”

Sam was staring at his brother for a while, a storm of emotions raging within him. “Okay,” he said quietly. “If you’re sure you want it, I want it, too…”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I do want it. That’s what I’m trying to explain to you here, dummy.”

“Fine, fine,” Sam said quickly, grabbing Dean’s hand and pulling him into his embrace. They ended up lying on the bed, Dean on top of Sam, the box of condoms forgotten somewhere among the bedclothes. “But I have one condition.”

“What condition?”

“I’ll be bottom.”

Dean’s confused expression was just adorable. “Um… well… It’s not that I complain, I surely don’t, but I kind of expected you to want it the other way around. May I know why?”

Sam ran his hand from Dean’s shoulder blade down his back to his ass covered by the thin layer of fabric. “We don’t know what I may do to you in the heat of passion. I may lose control over myself and hurt you. Now let’s face a few facts: My pain tolerance is much higher than yours.”

“And how do you know that?”

“It’s much higher in general.”

Dean nodded. “Fair enough.”

“And if something went wrong,” Sam continued, “I’ll heal soon. You can’t hurt me practically.”

Dean’s expression softened. “Sammy.”

Sam smiled and gave his brother a passing kiss. “Don’t talk and strip.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “That’s my line, bitch. Strip. And I’ll bring… something that will ease the way in,” he said and got out from the bed.

Sam grinned and rolled on his side. “You mean lube?” he asked innocently.

Dean peeked at him, but then he marched into the bathroom without answering. Sam sniggered and took off his clothes meanwhile.

Dean returned in a while with a small bottle of lube. Sam, sprawled over the bed, suppressed a smirk and handed Dean the box of condoms. Dean put the things on the floor next to the bed, then he got rid of his boxers and slid under the comforter to Sam.

“So? How are we gonna do this?” he asked.

Sam shrugged.

Dean sighed. “This is awkward.”

Sam chuckled. “Just because you make it awkward. Come here.” He reached for Dean, pushing him gently onto the mattress, giving him a slow, open-mouthed kiss.

“Mmmm…” Dean groaned into Sam’s mouth, hugging his brother close. “I thought you wanted to be bottom,” he whispered to Sam bending over him after a while.

“We’ve just started,” Sam replied, kissing Dean again.

They shared a lot of kisses: slow and gentle, greedy and passionate. Their hands were sliding over each other’s body, wet trails of lips spreading from the delicious skin of their neck to the lower belly. Sam’s skillful fingers slowly prepared Dean for his task, and Dean’s soft moans into his ear awakened his own desire. The wolf inside him was silent but curious, and he was watching and waiting…

Sam switched the positions, making it clear for both the wolf and Dean that he was serious about being at the receiving end. The wolf’s curiosity increased, but it didn’t try to push Sam into anything. Meanwhile Dean reached for the lube and slicked his fingers. Sam got on his knees and elbows. He didn’t see Dean’s face, he just heard the quiet and little bit shaky “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Sam breathed out and when he felt a cold push into his body, he held his breath. The wolf purred contentedly, but Sam didn’t care about him. He concentrated on the slow, careful slide of Dean’s finger inside him. He couldn’t say it was comfortable, not at the beginning at least, but when the finger moved in and out, still careful but a little bit faster, he sighed excitedly.

“Good?”

“Yes!”

“Okay.”

The finger was gone, just to be back in a while with another one. Sam thought he was probably too tight, but his body accepted them rather easily. Sam gave a silent moan, realizing how fast his heart was beating. Dean’s other hand was caressing his heated body – his hips, his waist, his back… There were tiny kisses every now and then and words of encouragement:

“That’s right, Sammy, just a little bit. Is it good? Do I make you feel good? Just a little bit deeper. Great. Do you want me to go faster?”

“Yes, please,” Sam panted, and his body trembled. The sensation of Dean’s fingers inside him sent a spark of passion through his body, turning it into flames.

“Okay, Sammy. You can take a bit more, right? Three fingers, you can take them, right?”

Sam moaned into a pillow. Three digits pushed their way in and he couldn’t help a yelp when they hit the prostate.

“Are you okay?” Dean stopped, waiting for Sam to answer.

Sam trembled and looked at Dean over his shoulder. “Continue.” It came out as a growl, a command of an impatient wolf. He recognized Dean’s hesitation in slight indecisive movement of his fingers, but then Dean pushed in with a little bit more force, making Sam gasp.

“That’s it,” Sam breathed out, feeling Dean’s angry movements. He put more force and less gentleness into the preparation, his fingers were trying to stretch Sam to his limits. The little pain Sam could feel was nothing; while Dean could still hit the prostate, everything was perfectly all right.

And then the fingers were gone again, leaving Sam with a cold feeling of loss. Sam allowed himself a glance at him, seeing his brother unwrapping a condom and sheathing his hard-on.

“Prepare yourself,” Dean’s firm voice echoed after a while, his hands grabbing Sam’s hips, steadying him. And there was a push, determined, rough, greedy… and painful. Sam whimpered, hoping Dean didn’t hear that.

His brother stopped. “Sam? Sammy, are you okay? Am I hurting you?”

Sam shook his head. “I’m fine. Go on.”

“You would tell me if something was wrong, right?” Dean’s hand stroked his back.

Sam thought he would explode. The wolf was tense and waiting, Sam had no idea what for, but when Dean pushed deeper, it howled and dug its claws into Sam’s consciousness. Sam shuddered and gave a deep, dark growl. _Why now, dammit, why now?_   

“Sam?” Dean was motionless again, his voice full of concern.

“Hard, Dean. Fuck me hard and don’t stop,” Sam said, wiping tears from his eyes. This wasn’t about love and trust anymore. This act turned into a need – something Sam hoped wouldn’t happen. _Stupid animal! Has to spoil everything…_ He could hear the wolf’s content purr and he wanted to kill – something big and strong and fighting back.

“Move, Dean!”

Dean probably got the message or maybe he just decided it was better not to oppose Sam right now, it was hard to tell, but when he moved – fast and violently – everything Sam could think about was pain. Blood rushed through his veins like a wild stream. He dug his nails into the sheets, clenching his teeth as Dean thrust within him with so much force it would have made one scream with pain, but Sam only growled and reciprocated with furious shove back.

Dean gave the wolf exactly what he wanted. The sex was ferocious, full of rage and violence in its very core. This wasn’t what Sam wanted and surely it wasn’t what Dean hoped for. This was just fucking – empty and cold. Feelings became meaningless – no matter how much they loved each other, the wolf didn’t allow them to feel it through this act. Whenever Dean tried to put a bit of gentleness into the violence, the wolf wrapped his consciousness tighter around Sam, making him growl with disapproval, demanding the ferocity back.

Dean came. His choked groan filled the small room, making Sam’s ears bleed with regret. _This isn’t supposed to be like this…_ His brother pulled out of him. Sam could hear a gasp and then:

“Sam, you’re bleeding!”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll heal in no time,” Sam grunted, getting up from the bed. Walking was like going through hell. Especially when he was still hard.

“Were are you going?”

“Bathroom.”

“Wait, I’ll help you.” He could hear the sound of the condom being taken off and the rustle of sheets.

“Don’t touch me!” Sam growled the warning, and all the sounds in the room died out. He hurried to the bathroom as fast as his body allowed him (which was quite slow actually). He felt like drunk and his whole body ached. Small bloody droplets were rolling down his shivering thighs and he wanted to get under the shower sooner than they reached the floor.

He finally got into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind himself. Only then he allowed desperation take over him.

He was not hard anymore…

*

Dean was standing by the bathroom door and waited in a tense silence. Minutes were passing by and each of them felt like eternity. Dean wasn’t quite sure what had happened, but he could feel Sam’s rage, his anger and disappointment. None of them wanted it to be like this, but there was no way to prevent it. The only thing Dean could do now was not to regret it and just be there for his brother… if only Sam had finally got out from the bathroom.

He didn’t try to knock or call. He knew Sam would go out when he felt like that and Dean was going to be there even if it meant he would be standing there the whole night.

Finally the door opened and Sam stepped out. He looked surprised to find Dean there. Dean didn’t give him a chance to run into the bathroom again. He hugged Sam, pressing him close.

Sam didn’t fight back. He buried his face into the crook of Dean’s neck, giving a quiet sob. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Sammy, I know. You all right?”

“I’m not bleeding anymore.”

“That’s good.”

Dean kissed Sam’s temple, feeling relief. Thank God! He would never have forgiven himself if he had hurt Sam.

“Let’s go back to bed, Sam,” he said gently, taking Sam’s hand. Sam followed him like an obedient dog.

They got under their comforters, Sam keeping his distance from Dean. It hurt.

“Come to me, Sammy.” Dean offered Sam a protection under his strong arm. Sam cuddled to him hesitantly, but then he relaxed against Dean’s body. Dean folded the arm around him, his fingers caressing Sam’s skin.

None of them spoke for a long time. They were breathing each other, trying to find comfort in the closeness.

“I’m not mad, okay? Neither disappointed. Just so that you know,” Dean whispered when the silence seemed to last too long.

“I’m tired, Dean. The wolf… makes me do things I don’t want.”

“I know, love. I know.” Dean kissed the crown of Sam’s head. “Did he get what he wanted? Is he calm now?”

“Yes. He’s sleeping.”

“Good. That’s great.” Dean made Sam raise his head. “Kiss me, Sammy.”

The kiss was hesitant and shy as though Sam was afraid he could hurt Dean this way, so Dean had to take control over it. He wanted to convince Sam that everything was fine, that there was no reason to be afraid, that he understood and was there not to judge but love despite the darkness within his brother. It took Sam some time to let go of his fears and surrender to Dean’s effort. His kisses, his touches, even the look of his eyes were affectionate and so gentle that it was hard to believe that it was the same person that growled at Dean to fuck him harder the very same night. Every Sam’s touch told Dean how much Sam cared about him, how much he wanted to forget their first disastrous time and make this one nice and special.

Dean wanted to encourage Sam somehow, let him know that he didn’t need to try so hard, that everything with him was great as long as there were feelings, but he wasn’t the type who could put such crap into even crappier words. He sighed into Sam’s neck and whispered the simple “I love you” into his hot skin.

Sam whined quietly and kissed Dean gratefully. “You’re my everything,” he replied, his chest pressed to Dean’s, their faces just inches away.

Dean smiled. “You’re such a girl, Sam,” he said, but Sam’s words got deep into him, making him feel special. He reached for the bottle of lube lying on the floor by the bed and pushed it into Sam’s hand. The startled look of the hazel eyes amused him.

“You said the wolf was asleep.”

“It is,” Sam agreed.

“Then go on, baby. We don’t have much time.”

Sam was gentle, treating Dean as carefully as if his brother was a porcelain doll. But it was okay, it was even nice, exciting with the combination with the constant kisses. The feeling of something pushing into him wasn’t the best sensation ever, but Sam managed to make it painless and a few right movements were enough to make Dean gasp with pleasure.

And then Sam was in, not balls deep, hell, not at all! He was only as deep as the position on top of Dean allowed him, his chest plastered to his brother’s. Dean hooked his legs around Sam’s waist and let Sam take the control completely.

Sam didn’t move at first, he kept kissing Dean as though there was nothing better, and then he started rocking in a slow, careful rhythm. It wasn’t the best sex Dean had ever experienced. It wasn’t even sex to Dean’s gauge. It was something slow, tender and careful, exciting only to the point not to be bored – Sam’s kisses helped very much, and after a few shallow slides in and out Dean understood that this wasn’t about physical pleasure at all. This was about closeness, trust and need for loving embrace.

Dean hugged Sam, kissing him back, enjoying the hands that cherished him, the touch of the skin that needed to feel him, the warmth down there making him pant. He removed the hair from Sam’s forehead and kissed the tip of his nose.

“You’re a good boy. You’ll come for me, okay?”

Sam mewled like a puppy, making Dean chuckle. He lifted himself on his elbows, increasing the pace a bit. Dean gasped and his body flexed under Sam, his fingers digging into Sam’s back.

“Come on, Sam.”

Sam growled, shutting his eyes. Dean could see how careful and focused he tried to be.

“Let go, baby. It’s okay,” Dean whispered.

Sam whined and his body shuddered, he pushed inside deeper and harder. Dean reached for his own cock, stroking it while Sam was sliding in and out.

“Come for me,” Dean panted, and Sam buried his face into the crook of his neck with the last push. He trembled, flooding Dean with heat. It was so hot, fuck, it was wonderful! White pearls of come stained Dean’s stomach shortly before Sam collapsed on him coming down from his high. Dean hugged him, trying not to think about the sticky mess between their bodies. They both were panting, their hearts beating in frantic unison.

Dean tousled Sam’s hair. “You’re such a good boy,” he whispered.

Sam purred into his ear contentedly. He lifted on his elbows, looking Dean in the eyes, and he must have found there what he was looking for, because he smiled and kissed Dean tenderly. Then he pulled out of his brother’s body carefully, trying not to hurt him anyhow. Some of warm wetness came out, too, and dirtied Dean’s thighs.

Dean froze for a moment. Crap! A condom! Sam didn’t wear any… Dean sighed. _Safe sex forever,_ he thought with irony and hugged Sam again. This was the first time he forgot about protection and he just hoped Sam had been responsible during the time he had been soulless and fucked everything that spread their legs for him.

Sam purred again and rolled off of Dean. He was sleepy and held his eyes open only with effort. An amused smile curled Dean’s lips. He ran his hand through Sam’s hair, delivering a small kiss on his cheek before he got out from the bed.

“Where’re you goin’?” Sam asked, reaching for him.

“To shower. I’m all sticky and I smell like a pig.”

“You smell beautiful,” Sam muttered into a pillow.

Dean smiled. “Sleep, you sweettalker. I’m back in a minute.”

“Mkay…”

When Dean returned, clean and fresh from the shower, he found Sam sound asleep. He tried to wipe the worst of the dirt from his body with a wet towel – not that Sam hadn’t managed to wipe the come from his stomach into the sheets already, right? Despite Dean’s intention not to wake him up Sam squinted at Dean from under heavy eyelids.

“Mmm?”

“I’m just trying to clean you up a little bit.”

Sam mumbled something unintelligible and by the time Dean was done with his work on him, he would have been sleeping again peacefully.

Dean got under the comforter next to his little brother. Sam must have felt his presence even in his sleep because he snuggled to Dean immediately, finding his favorite place on Dean’s body and he sighed contentedly.

Dean wrapped his arm around Sam, burying his nose into his brother’s hair. Despite the rough sex and Sam’s subsequent freak-out he considered the day to be one of the best in his life. Definitely this was the best Christmas ever.  


	10. Beauty and the Beast

Sam didn’t shift for quite a long time and he said he felt perfect. There were no periods of blankness, and instead of going for walks into the forest, he sought Dean to make out (if he was around and not at work). In the end there really was something about the ‘good fuck’ thing… Sex became an important part of their lives. It became a normal thing that after Dean returned home from work, Sam dragged him right to bed. Sometimes he only got a great handjob, but sometimes Sam was much more demanding. The only unsettling thing about the sex part was that they always had to ‘feed’ the wolf at first. After rough, violent fuck Sam was able to give and receive gentleness.

The very next day after Christmas they took Dean’s baby for the first ride since he had got her back. Sam, riding shotgun as he had used to, was silent most of the time, but his hand on Dean’s thigh sliding slowly up to his crotch was eloquent enough. They ended up making out in the backseat before they even got to a town. Grinning and eye-sexing, they finally reached a diner (Sam needed to be fed and Dean wanted apple pie).

Dean felt like a horny teenager, but he didn’t mind. He couldn’t wait to get home from work so that he could spend a nice (read: passionate) evening with his Sammy.

Three weeks had passed since Christmas until words left Sam again. It made him exasperated and rather obnoxious, but he didn’t run into the forest as usual. Dean left him alone sulking in bed at first, but as the day was coming to an end and Sam didn’t seem to get any better, Dean took the things into his own hands. He attacked Sam in bed, pulling the pants off his brother’s hips. The sole act surprised Sam to the level he didn’t even try to fight back and when Dean’s mouth sheathed his cock, he yelped, giving Dean a look of a frightened doe. He was absolutely silent and tense, but he didn’t shove Dean away, didn’t move at all.

It took Dean some time to awake Sam’s pride, and he already started having doubts about his skills or thought that maybe Sam wasn’t interested right now, only was too scared to say anything (or simply didn’t know how), when finally it grew into its respectful size.

This was the very first blowjob Dean had ever given. And he sucked in it, he really did, but he tried hard to do his best. Anyway, as long as Sam didn’t protest, everything was fine. Dean promised himself to get better and he was sure there would be a lot of chances for practice.

When Sam’s chest started heaving in a fast rhythm, he knew he was achieving the goal. He sucked hard, making Sam shudder and then his only problem was not to choke on the come.

Yuck… Why didn’t Sam warn him about the taste? Well, Sam’s tastes had been weird lately; he probably didn’t have any problem with it. Or maybe Dean just tasted much, much better.

The blowjob didn’t make his brother speak, nevertheless he didn’t growl anymore and he cuddled to Dean and fell asleep. When Sam woke up in the morning (it was still damn dark outside), he didn’t leave the bed until he returned the favor – and call Dean damned, but it was the best way of being woken up ever! People at work probably thought he was high on something, but he didn’t care and when Sam’s message came, the words perfect and not confused at all, the day couldn’t be better. Their usual lunch break call was full of laughter and before Dean got back home, he got Sam a great piece of meat, hoping there would be steaks for dinner, but the bitch managed to finish it before Dean even got out from the shower. After that Sam tried to make it up for Dean with sex and this time it was just about the two of them. The wolf was sated and quiet. At least for once…

Dean tried to make Sam not to forget to wear condoms during sex, but again, the bitch had to do things his own way and wasn’t too eager to remember it.

“And why? If I’m dying of some sexually transmitted disease, then you’re too, and the other way around.”

Sam was right. Their lives were bound by death.

“Okay,” Dean gave up, and they stopped using condoms altogether.

Dean really couldn’t complain about their sex life. It was passionate, exciting and… with Sam even kind of adventurous – not only because Sam was what he was, but also because they made out not only in the every possible corner of the cottage, but they desecrated the backseat of the Impala during one of their little trips to the next town, once Sam dragged Dean to the men’s bathroom in the local McDonald’s (but didn’t get to anything, saying the environment was too gross and stinking and didn’t try to do it ever again), he visited his brother at work (twice) during the lunch break and Dean ended up enjoying a mindblowing blowjob in the empty garage while everyone was out for lunch. After that he had to get Sam out before people started coming back, because the sin was too obvious in their faces and as cheerful and satisfied as his brother was, he really didn’t look like a person on the verge of death.

Sam had undying libido and sometimes Dean wondered whether he was that horny even as a human or it was the doing of the wolf inside him. Yet, he didn’t complain. He deserved such attention for all the endless months of celibacy.

Another good thing was that Sam didn’t transform at all and that one time of blankness (besides Sam’s enormous appetite) was the only thing that reminded Dean of the seriousness of Sam’s werewolf problem. Sex prevented Sam even from being bitchy. He seemed happy and rather satisfied with everything. He was cuddly, cheerful and… well, horny. He cherished Dean like something sacred, pampered him in his clumsy way, showed him how important his big brother was for him. And made Dean feel his love deep inside. It was a miracle that despite his jealousy Sam didn’t try to hold Dean down in any way. Sam really hadn’t been kidding when he said he trusted Dean unconditionally. The fact that Dean didn’t fancy to go out for a drink with his colleagues from work probably helped, too. Dean always preferred spending time with Sam to going out with strangers.

Fourth week was slowly going by and Sam still didn’t transform, but Dean noticed his appetite was increasing from day to day. Sam woke up a few times in the middle of the night and stuffed himself with whatever he could find in the fridge, even vegetable if he found it, which was strange considering his former distaste.

“You need a hunt,” Dean said one day at the end of the fourth week.

“What? Why?” Sam raised his head from his second pizza.

“Because it’s getting harder to feed you. If you get fat, I’ll stop sleeping with you.”

“I won’t get fat. I’ll burn the calories during sex.”

“Sam, you can’t possibly burn that many calories.”

Sam shrugged finishing the pizza.

“You say that if we stop having sex you’ll eat less?” Dean asked.

“If we stop having sex, I’ll get bitchy and I’ll transform,” Sam said matter-of-factly, looking around the kitchenette. His eyes landed on a burger wrapped in paper lying on the kitchen counter. He grinned and went for it.

“Hey! That’s mine!” Dean shouted, glaring. “You’ve eaten yours already!”

Sam made a puppy face. “But I’m still hungry.”

 _Crap!_ Dean capitulated. “Take it then.”

Sam’s face brightened at once. “Thanks!”

Dean just waved his hand. He would go to sleep hungry again…

When they got to bed in the evening and Sam snuggled to his brother, the idea of a hunt was still occupying Dean’s mind. Sam’s appetite started being sort of out of control since he was able to eat one week supplies in two days. Without sharing, by the way.

“Have you met the wolf pack since… you know?” he asked, playing with Sam’s hair absentmindedly.

Sam looked at him, scrutinizing Dean’s expression. “No,” he said slowly, trying to read in his brother’s face what the question was about.

“You didn’t shift for quite a long time after that, did you?”

“Dean, what is this about?” Sam asked impatiently.

“Well, I thought that maybe if we found a hunt concerning a werewolf…” Dean said cautiously, glancing at his brother and waiting for his reaction.

“You’re kidding,” Sam said.

“I’m dead serious.”

“Um… well…”

Dean frowned. “What?”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. Just feels weird. You do realize that a werewolf would be an equal opponent for me, don’t you?”

“Sam,” Dean addressed him in a tone as if a parent was talking to a child. “You fought a demon – untransformed. You helped me to gank a wendigo and you killed a shapeshifter alone. Besides, you play death games with grizzlies regularly. Tell me who of them is not an equal opponent for you?”

Sam bit his lip, but then he smiled and pecked Dean’s lips. “Okay, let’s hunt a werewolf.”

“Great. You can start the research while I’ll be at work tomorrow.”

Sam chuckled, pressing closer. “Roger!”

When Dean came home from work the other day, Sam was cooking.

“Where did you get the meat?” he asked incredulously. As far as he was concerned, Sam ate their last supplies the day before. Did he just miss something?

“I went for a hunt,” Sam said proudly and smiled at his brother.

“Wait, what do you mean you went for a hunt?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I went to the forest and hunted rabbits. A pro here,” he said, taking out two plates.

“That’s rabbit meat?”

“Yup. Wash your hands, we’re gonna eat.”

Since that time Sam hunted his own food. Sometimes he had already eaten by the time Dean returned from work and Dean really didn’t want to know whether Sam cooked his meal or not, especially when there was always warm dinner waiting for him. Food wasn’t a problem anymore, yet one thing that Dean didn’t like very much came out from this new situation: Dean lost control over Sam’s hunger completely. He didn’t know anymore what his brother ate and when and so couldn’t say how bad or good it was with Sam.

Sam’s growing appetite made him nervous as well as the fact that his werewolf brother didn’t shift anymore despite his ferocity, and when Dean looked into his eyes, the only thing he could see was an animal. An animal that loved him infinitely.

“Have you found something?” he asked Sam after a few days since their conversation about the hunt.

“Uhm… there are a few cases where I guess demons are concerned, one that I think is a wraith, here is one dealing with a ghost and one with vampires. No werewolves.”

Dean sighed. “What do you say to vamps? We can go and play with them until we find a werewolf.”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t mind.” He looked at Dean. “But… can we wait till your birthday is over? It’s just two days, that won’t kill us. And you have work, anyway.”

“I’ll take a few days off. I’ll say I’m taking you to some clinic for a check-up.”

“I’d like to celebrate your birthday like normal people and not in some crappy motel room or on the way as usual. Dean?”

Dean sighed. “You know I don’t mind, but… if it makes you happy, we can wait till then. But the day after, we’re going.”

Sam beamed. “Yes!” He pulled Dean into his embrace to kiss him… and maybe even for something more.

*

Dean couldn’t get rid of the feeling that something was wrong and this period of no transformations, extreme appetite and constant horniness were signs that something big was coming. And that he wouldn’t like it at all. He hoped the hunt would have some positive effect.

*

It was Dean’s birthday finally and Sam was home alone, preparing for the evening. He wanted to make dinner exactly to Dean’s liking and there was this one thing he wanted to give him. Though, he was a little nervous about this one part, even though he probably didn’t have a reason. Sam’s life couldn’t be any happier. It was (relatively) normal, he shared it with Dean, and the very best part was that Dean returned his feelings. So Sam was hopeful.

He tidied up the room, made the bed (prepared it for the evening), and just wanted to start cooking when a sudden chill ran up his spine and he froze on the spot.

_It’s time, Sam._

“No, not today. Please, not today…”

_Sam, I can’t wait any longer. It’s time._

“Just one more day, please. I’ll become yours tomorrow.”

_No, Sam, it’s not possible. You reached your limits._

“But… I can’t. Not today. Dean…”

_I gave you all the time I could. If you stayed longer, you’d hurt him. You don’t want that, do you? Your time is up._

“If not tomorrow, then wait until he comes back. I want to say goodbye at least.”

_No, Sam. That would be dangerous for him. It’s better if he’s not here._

“I can’t just leave.”

_You can. He’ll understand. You both knew this would happen. Sam, you don’t have any other choice. You fought well, now it’s time to go._

“Then give me a few minutes. Just five more minutes. I need to finish something.”

_Five minutes, no more, Sam. But there’s a price, nevertheless._

“I need to do this.”

_Go on. Be quick. The longer I let you, the higher the price will be._

Sam looked around the room. Where the hell had he put his duffel? Oh, right, under the bed… He knelt on the floor, and pulled out the bag. His heart was pounding frantically and his breathing was quick and uneven. He reached in and ripped the lining off. Something small and shiny fell out on the floor. Sam grabbed it and put it on the table. He was sure Dean would notice it right away.

_Done?_

“Not yet.”

_Hurry._

Sam snatched for his cell phone, typing one short word and sending it, knowing Dean would get the meaning. It was one word implying Dean’s greatest fear that the history would repeat. And it did, but this time it was for good…

“I’m done.”

_Good._

“What’s the price for the delay?”

_If you meet Dean again by chance, you won’t recognize him._

Sam’s breath hitched. “Why?”

_No time for questions. We’re going._

Sam felt his consciousness broke under the strong impact of the darkness he managed to keep in check for so long. It took him completely, not leaving a single sane thought. Sam fell deep within himself, not knowing who he was anymore…

*

This wasn’t the best day ever, the boss was bitchy (obviously needed good sex) and workers were nervous because of that. So when Dean’s phone beeped with incoming message, he hoped it would improve his mood.

 _Stnfort,_ the message said.

Dean was staring at the display for a long time. _Stanford!_ It was the last goodbye, Dean knew it.

There was no time for hesitation. He burst into the boss’ office.

“I need the rest of the day off.”

“I can’t give you the day off, Dean. I need you here,” the boss said.

“It’s Sam. There’s something wrong with him. I need to check on him.”

“I’m sorry about your boyfriend, really, but you have your responsibilities here as well. You won’t be here up from tomorrow so I need you here today.”

Frustration came over Dean. He banged his fist on the table. “Dammit! I said I need the rest of the day off! Sam needs me.”

“It’s just two hours until the end of the shift! He can hang on for that long.”

Dean’s expression hardened. “I thought you were a reasonable guy, but you’re obviously not,” he said slowly. “Are you not letting me go?”

“No,” the guy said, but it was hesitant as if he finally understood how dangerous Dean could be in reality if he wanted to.

“Then I quit. You won’t see me here ever again,” Dean said coldly, ready to leave the room. There was no time to waste, especially with a skunk like this one.

“Wait! You can’t just quit.”

“Can’t I?”

The guy gulped.

“Watch me.” Dean opened the door and walked out. Fear and worry attacked him immediately and he hurried to the car (not the Impala, he still used the old junk for his rides to work) and drove home, breaking the speed limit without any regret. It was a miracle he didn’t meet a police patrol.

When he got home, the first thing he could see was the open door and the shreds of Sam’s clothes all around. He reached into the glove compartment for a gun.

“Sam!” he called, but the answer was only deep silence.

He walked into the cottage cautiously, the gun prepared. Sam could be just hidden somewhere and Dean didn’t know what he could expect. He didn’t want to risk.

He stepped in and with his back pressed to the wall he looked around. The cottage was empty.

Dean moved from the wall and something small and shiny lying on the table caught his attention. _It can’t be!_

He came closer… and gaped. There, on the table, his long forgotten amulet was lying.

Dean’s throat tightened. “Sam…” He saw the ill-fated day in front of his eyes when disappointment made him toss in a trash that precious piece of his life, the symbol of how much his little brother meant to him and, as he thought, he to his brother. Sam must have retrieved it and hidden somewhere, not knowing whether he would ever be able to give it back to his big brother or not. And now it became his goodbye.

Dean’s birthday couldn’t get any worse…

*

He waited. He waited the whole freaking week, hoping Sam would show up eventually. Meanwhile he searched the forest, all the places Sam had ever taken him to and even many, many others. He was calling, promising, threatening, pleading, cursing, persuading, commanding, but Sam never answered. Dean was torn between the will to stay and wait for Sam’s possible return and the urge to pack his things and drive miles to the places where he found out something about demon activity. He presumed Sam was on a hunt – the most bloody and violent hunt of his life.

The second week was slowly passing by and Dean’s patience was at an end. He packed his things, guns and silver, leaving everything that belonged to Sam behind. The amulet dangling on a string around his neck, Dean reached for it as he looked around the cottage, standing in the doorway. Everything was still breathing with Sam’s presence as though he had left just a while ago and was to return every minute. His books were in every corner, his clothes lying on one of the chairs together with the torn duffel bag, his cell phone never left the table. Everything had its place mostly where Sam left it and Dean really didn’t feel like doing anything with it. He still hoped.

He squeezed the amulet in his hand and closed the door silently. He walked towards the Impala – his baby Sam brought back to him. He had only her and the precious memory of everything that happened here – good things as well as the bad ones, because they went through them together, Sam and he, they belonged to both of them.

He slid behind the steering wheel and started the car. The engine purred and the Impala moved, taking Dean away from their sanctuary, from the life he loved so much as he realized just now.

He spent weeks chasing after a ghost. Mostly, the towns where he knew something about demon activity were suddenly peaceful, but there was no trace of anything that might have caused it. And then, he found towns where demons were whispering in shadows about a clawed and fanged avenger striking from the darkness. The sons of bitches weren’t very talkative, but Dean knew a few useful tricks he learned in Hell. The avenger, demons said, always struck at night in the darkest alleys. He was big and strong and furious, taking his prey with him and killing them there. They said his eyes were blazing with unholy fire, but if Dean asked whether it was hellfire, they denied it promptly.

“Hell can’t produce that kind of fire,” they said.

“Where is he now?”

They smirked. “He can be anywhere. You never know when he strikes and where.”

He tried to use demons as bait, but it never worked. The avenger never showed up.

“It’s your human stench that keeps him away. He never strikes when humans are around or he does it secretly.”

It didn’t stop Dean looking for his brother. He never stopped, never rested; he kept listening to demons and monsters and tried to be there before the avenger struck. He was never lucky.

It happened just once that a body of a young girl was found in one of the darkest alleyways, completely torn. It looked like some wild animal played with her nastily. Police said it was a big dog, but Dean had his own theory. Demons agreed. The girl had been possessed and the avenger went for her blood that gave him strength.

Demons were frightened. They said when he encountered them, they weren’t able to use their powers anymore and became an easy prey.

And then, there were hunters. Some of them cheered for the demon killer, but most of them took their guns and searched forests.

One day someone came with an idea that silver could stop the avenger. Dean felt fear rising within him. _Stay away, Sam, stay away from people._

The avenger was cunning. There was still no human who could say they saw him. And there were just a few demons who could say they saw him and stayed alive. Yet, the old instinct to protect Sam by all means echoed in Dean and he always tried to trick the hunters with a false trail.

Rumors spread. Rumors about Dean Winchester hunting alone and unwilling to tell what happened to his brother. No one heard a word about Sam Winchester, he vanished into thin air. According to rumors, something got him. According to rumors, Dean had been late to save his ass. _Isn’t all that true?_ Dean asked himself when he tried to get some sleep after a long night of chasing after the beast that didn’t want to be seen.

_Have you totally forgotten about me, Sammy, or do you remember me too well to let me see you like this?_

Every time he started having doubts about his effort to find his brother, the amulet hanging around his neck always reminded him everything good Sam had given him and he couldn’t just stop and mind his own business. Sam needed him. Even now. Maybe more than any time before. But how was he going to do this? How was he going to save him? The gun he kept under his pillow every time he went to sleep was still loaded with silver bullets…

And then, when he was losing his hopes again, a demon came to him. The former King of Hell himself visited him in his motel room, and he looked pissed and ready to kill Dean.

“What the freezing hell have you done?”

“I don’t know what you mean and I don’t think I even care,” Dean replied coldly, turning his back to the demon, but Crowley stood in front of him anyway. Freaking demons…

“I should’ve known that you Winchesters always crawl out from your graves, but this went a little bit too far, don’t you think?”

Dean’s face hardened. “One more word about Sam and I swear I’ll kill ya.”

“Don’t get so cocky, boy, we’re in the same boat.”

Dean laughed coldly. “That was actually funny.”

It was just a second and Dean found himself pressed to the hard wall behind his back. Crowley’s face was so close that if he wanted, he could seal a deal easily.

“Listen to me, you knucklehead. Your brother should have stayed were he was. The thing you brought back is vicious and unstoppable and he just started. Neither I nor you want to know what he’s going to do when he transforms completely. Now he hunts demons, but what will he hunt when there’s no demon to kill anymore? Have something like that ever occurred to you? We are all just MEAT for him.”

Dean smirked. “I can smell fear.”

“Trust me, you have no idea how fear smells,” Crowley said, letting go of Dean.

Dean straightened his crumpled clothes. “Why are you here? What do you want from me?”

“I want you to help me to catch your brother. He’s already tracking me and I’m sure he’ll be here by night.”

Dean looked at Crowley mistrustfully. “I thought he avoided humans,” he said venomously.

“That’s not completely true. He avoids hunters.”

“How do you know all of this?”

Crowley smirked. “King of Hell.” He poured himself a glass of whiskey and sipped from it. “Yuck, you’re worse than the poor old fool Bobby Singer.”

Dean frowned and a quiet growl sounded. He must have adopted some of Sam’s habits…

Crowley put the glass on the table. “We have to be prepared. I guess you have a silver chain or a rope with silver fibers weaved into it, don’t you?”

Dean straightened his back, glaring at the demon. “I don’t. I have silver bullets, but I’m not shooting him.”

“You’re crazy, you know that? But I expected that,” Crowley said calmly. “I have something for you.” He handed Dean a small piece of paper with a few notes.

“What’s that?” Dean asked, reaching for it.

“It’s an address of a faith healer who claims the archangel Raphael helps her to heal people.”

“You’re kidding. The son of a bitch is dead.”

“That’s what everyone thinks. But someone upstairs obviously brought him back,” Crowley said, glaring at the glass with the cheap alcohol.

Dean gave a nervous laugh. “Why would he help to heal people? The archangels always cared only about themselves… and prophets.”

“That’s not my task to find out, and to be honest, I don’t even care. But your task, pretty face, is to make him heal your beast.”

Dean stayed silent, thinking. This was definitely the most hopeful lead he got, but how much could he trust Crowley?

“Why should I believe all this crap you say?”

“Because I’m your best shot, obviously. And if I were you, I wouldn’t hesitate anymore. Time is precious and your brother doesn’t have much of it. Once he changes completely, not even an archangel will be able to fix him.”  

*

Dean really didn’t know what brought him here. It could be only despair and the flicker of hope Crowley was able to light up. He hated working with the demon, but Crowley was right, this was his best shot. He still wasn’t sure how they were going to do this.

The sun was setting, but it was so dark in the forest already that Dean could call it night easily.

“How do you know he’ll come?”

“He will. If we take a few precautions, of course.”

“What precautions?”

Crowley reached into his coat and handed Dean a glass of something dark red. Blood.

“What the hell is that?”

“Can’t you guess? We have to mask that stench of yours somehow.”

“It’s demon blood, right? You juiced one of your buddies?”

“I wouldn’t call them so familiar,” Crowley said with a smirk. “Put it on yourself. Don’t forget about the clothes, too.”

Dean gaped. “Excuse me?”

“Do you want your brother back? Then hurry.”

Dean reached for the glass hesitantly. He opened it and started smearing his face with the stuff. It was disgusting.

“Your clothes too,” Crowley reminded him, and the son of a bitch was watching Dean with an amused grin. Oh, how much Dean would love to wipe that expression from his face!

He continued, the demon blood soaking his clothes. He would burn the things when this was over.

“Done? Prepare yourself. He won’t be friendly.”

Dean felt like throwing up thanks to the demon blood covering him from head to toe. It was disgusting in any way, but if it helped to lure Sam out, it was worth the try.

They waited. Everything was silent – maybe too silent, not even rustling of leaves in the treetops was heard.

“Are you sure he’s after you?” Dean asked the demon when the silence lasted too long.

“Shhh! He’s coming!” Crowley said and beckoned to Dean to hide.

Dean slid behind a bush and watched Crowley in the open space among the trees.

“Come on, Sam! I’m here, you big, furry beast! I know you want me! Come here and take me!” Crowley’s voice cut the darkness.

There was perfect silence at first… and then Dean could rather hear than see something big and hairy nearing from the opposite direction. He listened intently to the soft rustle of dry leaves and soil under the creature’s paws and tried to make out the shape.

A low growl echoed.

“Hello, Sam. Nice to see you again,” Crowley said cheerfully, his hands in the pockets of his coat. He behaved so casually as though there wasn’t a snowball chance that he would become the werewolf’s food in a few heartbeats.

The beast made a step towards the demon.

“You’re fluffier than I remember,” Crowley mocked, and the werewolf gave a new, malevolent growl. His eyes were gleaming with fire of wrath filling his whole being. It was a killer, a monster, right to his core, a prosecutor and an executioner, a punisher. He was here to take his revenge; that was his true nature.

Dean’s head spun and he felt the content of his stomach going up his throat. This creature had nothing in common with his gentle, loving Sam. This was pure anger, fury, bloodthirstiness in the shape of a big, hungry wolf. This wasn’t Sam… it couldn’t be… And still, there was something about the beast that made Dean think of all the nights of fights and cuddling and whispered confessions that were not remembered in the morning. He suppressed the nausea and tried to focus. The werewolf was coming closer while Crowley was still teasing him.

Suddenly the beast stopped and sniffed the air, his eyes piercing the darkness where Dean was hidden behind the bush. Dean held his breath, staring back at the werewolf.

“What’s up, Sam? I’m here, you wanted me, you filthy mutt,” Crowley tried to catch the creature’s attention again.

The werewolf didn’t react; he was still gazing at the bush, trying to decode the smell floating in the air.

Dean’s fingers brushed the gun he had hidden in his jacket. He didn’t want to shoot Sam and he hoped that at some point the animal would recognize him and won’t try to hurt him. Though, he knew that silver would be used tonight, but when he looked at the werewolf, he couldn’t really feel sorry for him.

Crowley called Sam a few times, but there was still the indecision in the creature’s eyes; Sam knew something was wrong. He sniffed again and growled a warning.

 _You bitch,_ Dean thought, and a small smile played on his lips. He felt proud of his little brother for not being tricked so easily, although the revelation could cost him his neck.

Wait! He was already revealed.

He reached for the gun and released the safeguard. Taking a deep breath, he came out from behind the bush.

“You knucklehead! What are you doing?” Crowley cried, outraged.

The werewolf looked at him and the demon shut up at once. The message was clear: _You’ll wait here, I’ll kill you later_.

Dean smirked. “Are you high on demon blood, Sammy? Don’t you think it’s been enough?” he said, his eyes never leaving the werewolf.

Sam, or whatever of him was still left in that big, animal body, was gazing back at him.

“Your mojo doesn’t work on me, little bro. Human here, see?” Dean made a step towards the werewolf, lifting his gun. “You’ll come with me, I’m taking you home.”

He didn’t know how much of the words Sam understood. Maybe none, but he definitely reacted to the gun. He sniffed and crouched a bit, his ears plastered to his skull, and he growled darkly.

Dean’s hand with the gun sank.

“It doesn’t need to be like this, Sam. Stop killing demons and come home with me.”

“You idiot, he’ll kill you,” Crowley grunted from his spot.

“Shut up, I’m saving your ass here,” Dean shot back.

“Remind me who got me into this situation, jackass.”

The werewolf glanced at the demon again, his pink tongue lolled out from his mouth. Then he licked his muzzle, returning all the mockery with this simple gesture. _You can’t run, I’ll eat you,_ was the message.

“Sam. Sammy,” Dean’s voice became gentle. The beast’s attention was his again. “Sammy, let’s go home.”

The werewolf sniffed again, not moving from the spot.

“Sammy, look. I don’t wanna hurt you. I just wanna take you home. You understand, Sammy, right?”

The beast was staring at him, neither moving nor growling.

“Sammy, it’s me, Dean, your big brother.”

No response, just the empty stare at him.

“I smell like Hell, I know. Not very appealing smell ever, is it? Do you remember what you told me about my smell? Do you? When was the last time you could smell the sun?”

“Good Lord of Hell…” Dean heard Crowley’s mutter. “This is worse than a soap opera…” He didn’t pay any attention to the demon, Crowley couldn’t run or use his mojo in any way, Sam made sure of that, so there was no need to care about him at all right now. This was just between Dean and his little brother.

Dean crouched carefully, putting the gun on the ground. “See, Sammy? I don’t wanna hurt you. You’re not gonna hurt me either, am I right, Sammy? You would never hurt me, is that right?” He needed to trust Sam in this, he needed to know that his little brother was still there, somewhere under the thick layer of wrath and cruelty.

The werewolf watched him intently, still not moving, just sniffing the air. Dean could see how hard he was trying to figure out what Dean was.

Dean took off his jacket and then his shirt, wiping the demon blood away from his hands and face.

“What the hell are you doing?” Crowley snarled from where he stood, frozen on the spot. Dean didn’t give a rat’s ass about him. He reached for the hem of his undershirt.

Sam’s eyes were still on him, eager and hungry. The werewolf opened his mouth a little, his breathing quick and impatient.

Dean pulled off the undershirt, only the amulet stayed dangling around his neck, touching his chest.

The werewolf lifted his head, a muffled whine coming out from his mouth.

“Sammy, it’s me. All human and yours.”

Sam stepped back… and was that fear in his eyes?

“Sam,” Dean said, urgency slipping into his voice. “Sam, come back home. Come back to ME.”

“Who wrote your lines? Danielle Steel?” Crowley mocked, obviously not noticing the change within Sam. The fire disappeared from the werewolf’s eyes, and he was standing there like a marble statue, waiting for who knows what.

“Sammy, I need you.”

Sam whined and shivered.

“I love you. Let’s go home.”

“Watch out!” Dean heard Crowley’s cry, but it was already too late. He was lying on the wet ground under the heavy body of the beast; sharp teeth so close to his face that Dean could count them easily even in the dark. And he got it. It wasn’t recognition that he had seen a while ago. It was pain and it drove Sam to attack. To ease it. If the one who caused it would die, the pain would disappear.

“Don’t do this, Sam, don’t do this. If you kill me, we both die,” Dean said, but Sam didn’t understand – or he didn’t want to. His eyes were now gleaming with madness. He was furious and he wanted to kill. Dean was sure he was going to do this.

There was no one to help him. His gun was out of his reach and if Dean wouldn’t come up with something soon, they both were going to die.

Words were useless here, he needed much more powerful weapon. And he had it, right in his jeans pocket.

Sam was breathing into his face – not the sweet breath that always made Dean want him to kiss; this time it was reeking of blood and death – but he didn’t give the final blow, the deadly bite. There was no time to wonder why, but Dean had a hunch it had something to do with the amulet. Maybe there really was something of Sam in the creature in the end.

But Sam didn’t stop growling. And if neck wasn’t reachable for him, then there were other parts. He was a ripper, and soft bellies were also his specialty. When Dean understood that, there was no more time for hesitation. Before Sam’s teeth could sink into his flesh, he pulled out the silver chain and hit the werewolf hard right into his face. Sam shrieked and jumped away, a long stripe of burned fur decorating his left cheek.

“Great!” Dean heard Crowley, and until he got up to his feet again, the demon was standing in front of the werewolf, Dean’s gun aimed at the beast.

“NO!” Dean shouted, but the shot echoed anyway, and Sam’s painful cry was the last thing he could hear.

Things were like in a slow-motion movie from that moment. Dean sank on his knees beside Sam, trying to stop the bleeding from his chest. Coldness was spreading from his heart to his whole body, the touch of death.

“Sammy, Sammy, you mustn’t die. Not now. Sammy, there’s someone to help you, you just must hang on. I’ll take you to the motel and take out the bullet, just hang on, Sammy, okay?”

Sam was shivering with pain, but no sound came out of his wolf mouth.

“No, you won’t take out the bullet. You would release Jack the Ripper, and believe me, this one won’t specialize in killing just a specific group of victims.”

“What the HELL!? He’s DYING, you asshole! You shot him!”

“That’s why we have no time to waste,” Crowley said matter-of-factly. “Help me to get him in the car.”

“Can’t you just snap your fingers and get him there?” Dean asked desperately. He didn’t need Sam to bleed more than necessary. He pressed his discarded undershirt to the wound.

“No, I can’t snap my fingers and do miracles. I’m not a stupid angel if that escaped your attention,” Crowley said sarcastically. “Besides, I’m still weakened by his freaking superpower.”

They lifted Sam together. The werewolf gave a quiet, painful whine. His body was absolutely limp, but his eyes were wide and scared as though he wasn’t able to grab what was happening to him. Dean could feel better than anything else the horror and disbelief; his heart was half Sam’s, beating in the same frantic rhythm. Dean knew that not the wound itself but the silver bullet captured in it was killing his brother. Slowly and painfully.

They put him in the backseat of the Impala. Sam didn’t give a sound, but his hazel eyes bored into Dean. There was no flicker of recognition or regret for his intention to kill his brother in them. Dean bent over him, checking the wound, and the amulet hanging around his neck got into the werewolf’s view. Sam whimpered, shutting his eyes.

Dean pulled away, glancing at the amulet. Was Sam afraid of it?

“Get him to the address I gave you,” Crowley said as Dean was about to get in the driver’s seat.

“Dammit, Crowley! It’s miles. There’s no way he’s gonna make it!”

“If you have a better plan, then don’t hesitate to share,”

“Actually, I do. But I need your help.”

Crowley rolled his eyes and got into the Impala. “I’m really curious what it is…”

*

“You’re a fool, you know that?” the demon grunted as he watched Dean carefully pulling out the silver bullet from the werewolf’s chest.

“Maybe,” Dean replied absent-mindedly, focusing on his heartbeat attuned to Sam’s. It was rather slow before they got into the motel room, but after Dean started the operation, the speed increased to such a mad level that it was really a miracle that his human heart was able to deal with it.

Once the bullet was out, instead of a big wolf Sam was lying there, worn out and suffering a great pain. He wasn’t moving, just breathing into sheets smelling of his big brother, but obviously that didn’t say anything to him. His eyes found Dean, but the light that had always been there when the brothers looked at each other was gone. Sam’s attention slid from Dean to Crowley and finally a sparkle of life appeared in that cold emptiness from a while ago. It was tearing Dean’s heart and he hoped Sam could feel that pain as well as he could feel Sam’s fear.

Sam looked at him again when Dean started stitching the wound – and this time he was growling, glaring at Dean’s amulet.

“I’m not taking it off ever again, Sammy, not even you can make me,” he said, and the response was a new growl.

“We’re wasting precious time here,” Crowley said impatiently, pacing the room while the older Winchester was working.

Dean ignored him.

Sam’s heartbeat was slowing down.

“Don’t mind him,” Dean said with a light smile. “He’s always that bitchy.”

The last stitch and he was done.

Sam lifted his hand and touched his brother’s face hesitantly. Dean stiffened, looking into Sam’s eyes. There was no change in them, yet the touch was as tender as he remembered.  

“Sammy,” he whispered and wanted to capture Sam’s hand in his, but the bitch pulled it away and licked his fingers, glancing at Crowley, who stopped pacing and watched the scene. _Fucking demon blood!_ Dean didn’t have a chance to wash his face so far and the blood dried so when he wanted to wipe it away in the forest, most of it stayed there anyway. Obviously, beside the amulet, which made him rather upset, the demon blood was the only thing that interested his brother.

“I would say let’s go,” Crowley said, gazing at Sam, whose eyelids became heavy.

The werewolf yawned, putting his head on a soft pillow and closed his eyes. Dean was still attuned to his heart and that could mean only one thing as he assumed: Sam wasn’t out of danger yet. He was whining quietly with pain the freshly stitched wound was causing him. Judging from his quick heartbeat, his mind was still alert.

“Give me a sec,” Dean said wearily. He went to the bathroom to wash his face and hands and change his pants. When he returned, Sam was gazing at Crowley again. “I need you to help me to get him in the car,” he said to the demon and touched Sam’s shoulder lightly. Sam flinched and shied away from the touch.

Crowley frowned “When this is over, I don’t want to see your ugly faces ever again,” he grumbled.

“Trust me, my intentions are no different,” Dean said tiredly, grabbing Sam’s arm firmly despite the werewolf’s weak efforts to get away from him, and pulled him on his feet. Sam was squirming and growling warningly, but when Dean refused to pay any attention to that, he started whining.

Crowley grabbed Sam from the other side, supporting the half of his weight. Neither he nor Dean noticed the malevolent smirk the second before the sharp werewolf’s teeth sank into the demon’s flesh.

Crowley yelped and tried to shove the attacker away, but the werewolf was holding tight, drinking his blood in big gulps.

Dean needed just a moment (during which Sam managed to take several proper draughts anyway) to put the silver chain around his neck. Sam gave a muffled cry and finally let go. He was screaming, whining, howling and sobbing while writhing in pain on the floor.

Crowley grabbed Dean’s throat and pushed him against a wall, blood dripping from his bitten neck onto his coat. “Why do you think I told you not to take out that bullet?” he hissed. “From now on, if you want me to help you, we’re doing it MY way.” He let go of Dean, letting him cough on the floor beside his brother trying to tear the chain off of his neck, but only burning his hands.  

Crowley looked at both Winchesters with disdain. “You have the address, we’ll meet there,” he said.    

“Hey, I thought you were going to help me with Sam,” Dean rasped, already knowing the answer.

“I’m not staying anywhere close to him,” Crowley said, glaring down at Sam. “Stupid beast,” he muttered and disappeared.

“Damned demons…” Dean cursed under his breath and crawled to Sam, who wasn’t moving anymore, but his silent whines were cutting through Dean’s heart more effectively than any blade could. “I’m sorry, Sammy,” he whispered, brushing the untidy hair away from his brother’s forehead. Sam was watching him, but his look was already foggy and unfocused. “We need to get you in the car,” Dean said, taking Sam’s arm and trying to stand him up.

Sam squealed, reaching for the chain he couldn’t touch.

“Sam, it’s okay! It’s okay! Dammit!” Dean wanted to put Sam back on the floor to calm him down, but Sam was writhing so violently that if Dean didn’t want to get hurt, he had to let go of him. Sam fell down on the floor, curling up and shaking all over. His heart was beating frantically with Dean’s in unison and any time his big brother reached for him, he snarled, baring his teeth threateningly and pulling away.

Dean needed to calm him down somehow, otherwise it was impossible to get his stupid brother anywhere. He pulled on a new T-shirt, hiding the amulet from Sam’s sight in the first place.

“Sammy,” Dean addressed his brother gently as he knelt beside him. Sam growled but stayed motionless, the burns around his neck already looking serious. Dean knew they would never heal completely, that there would be scars forever. “I’m not here to hurt you,” he continued in a soothing voice. He wasn’t sure Sam could understand anything he said, but he hoped that at least his tone could get to this miserable being that had been his brother once. “You have to let me take care of you, baby.”

Sam stopped growling and whined as though something caused him a new pain, his eyes fixed on Dean.

“I’ll take that thing off, but you have to be a good boy, okay, Sammy? You’ll be a good boy and won’t try to hurt me.” The words were meant more for Dean than Sam; he needed to convince himself that there was no danger possibly coming from his little brother.

Sam looked away, trembling.

“You won’t hurt me, right? You let me take this off.”

Dean’s fingers brushed lightly Sam’s shoulder. He felt how his brother’s body got rigid. Dean opened the closing and carefully took the chain off of Sam’s neck. A long sigh of relief sounded.

“That’s right, Sammy. You’re a good boy,” Dean praised the werewolf, sticking the chain into his jeans pocket. He ran his hand through Sam’s hair. Sam whined quietly again, shivering.

“All right, honey, come and get up.” Dean’s hand slid from Sam’s shoulder to his wrist. Sam closed his eyes, not moving. Dean put his brother’s arm around his neck, pulling him up. The bitch was absolutely uncooperative, hanging like a rag doll. Dean led him slowly to the door of the room. Sam mewled, burying his nose into the crook of Dean’s neck.

Dean shivered. “Sammy?”

Sam took a deep breath, licking the warm skin.

“Love?”

Only when a malevolent snarl echoed in his ear, Dean understood his mistake.

“Son of a bitch!” he cried, outraged, and shoved Sam against the door. The silver chain found its way out from the pocket, ending up around the werewolf’s neck again.

Sam screamed, doubling with pain on the floor.

“You don’t have enough, do you?”

He should have known. He saw it in those animal eyes – there was nothing of Sam, no memory of what they had been. Dean loved a ghost, the person who didn’t exist anymore.

He grabbed the werewolf from the floor, ignoring his weak protests and painful whines. He dragged him out from the room and crammed him into the backseat of the Impala. He rummaged through the things in the trunk, finding a rope. He bound Sam’s hands behind his back, making sure that the knot was strong enough. Only then he risked to take off the chain one more time. Beast or not, this was torturing. Dean didn’t want the werewolf to suffer more than necessary. Sam wasn’t struggling anymore. He was lying in the backseat, his eyes closed, his breathing labored. His heart was beating fast. Dean cast a blanket over his naked body, hiding the bounds.

He settled in the driver’s seat, starting the car. He glanced into the rearview mirror to check on his brother. There was no change in Sam’s position, no movement, he was perfectly still.

Dean pulled the Impala on the road, praying to deaf God that the journey would be quiet and peaceful.

*

Sam slept through almost the whole way – something Dean thought was impossible. He must have been exhausted and weakened by all the silver his body had tasted last night. His heartbeat was calm and steady.

It was long after the sunrise and their destination was already close when Sam’s heartbeat quickened and Dean knew the werewolf was waking up. He parked the Impala on the side of the road and waited for Sam to focus his eyes on him.

“Good morning, sunshine, did you sleep well? ‘Coz I sure as hell feel like crap after the whole night’s drive so I hoped at least someone would welcome the day in a good mood.”

Sam lifted his head, wanting to stretch his arms but finding out he couldn’t. He scowled at Dean and growled.

“What? Are we going to fight again? Look here. I can grace you with this,” he showed Sam the silver chain, “or,” he pulled out his gun, aiming it at the werewolf, “I can shoot you right into your arm or leg or anywhere where it won’t kill you and let you suffer until we reach the destination.”

Sam fell silent as he saw the things.

“Good. I like it this way much better as well.” Dean put the gun in the passenger’s seat and started the car again. When he looked into the rearview mirror, Sam’s eyes were closed and the werewolf looked like he was sleeping again. Dean realized he couldn’t feel his heartbeat anymore.

*

“I didn’t believe you’d make it here, but I obviously underestimated you,” Crowley said as Dean got out from the car.

“As you can see, I’m still here and kicking, but not thanks to you,” Dean snapped, glancing back at the car where Sam was watching Crowley through a window with a hungry expression.

“You should feed him. Or provide with silver again if you don’t want him to cause any trouble.”

That was right. Sam’s strength was returning slowly and not even the rope would be able to hold him back once he recovered completely.

“I hate this,” Dean muttered, watching Sam for a moment, but when he turned back to Crowley, the demon was already gone. “What a support,” Dean sighed, going back to the car and getting in. Sam growled at him – or maybe it was just his stomach, it didn’t matter. “We’re gonna eat. I’m hungry, too,” he said, pulling the car on the road.

*

Half an hour later Dean was chomping on his burger, watching Sam watching him. Sam was testing the rope from time to time with the same result, but Dean expected him to be able to get rid of it soon. The Impala was parked under the cover of trees in a forest behind the suburb where their destination was.

“I so hate this,” Dean muttered and reached for the second burger lying on the dashboard. He turned to the werewolf. “I’ll feed you, but you mustn’t try anything funny. I still have this.” He showed Sam the familiar gun.

The werewolf didn’t even flinch. He kept watching Dean, silent and motionless.

Dean got in the backseat and showed Sam the unwrapped burger. Sam licked his mouth, waiting. Dean offered him the burger warily. Sam’s mistrustful look pierced him through and through, but then the werewolf took a small, hesitant bite.

“That’s right, Sammy, just like that.” Dean would have smiled if it was still within his power. “You know, I would unbind you, but I can’t trust you.”

In small bites Sam kept eating the burger, which Dean was holding for him, his eyes never leaving his brother.

“Isn’t it funny?” Dean went on. “We used to trust each other absolutely and now I can’t even take off that rope because I believe you would try to strangle me right away.”

It seemed Sam was listening, but how much did words matter to him? He wasn’t human anymore and Sam’s gorgeous body was just a mockery of all the good (and even bad) they went through together. Sam was just a step from the final change. Behind that line he’d be completely out of Dean’s reach.

Dean’s eyes started burning. Watching someone’s downfall from its very beginning was hard enough. Watching the downfall of someone precious was a true torture. Dean felt a wet trail stretching down his cheek as he offered Sam another bite. Sam ignored it; his attention was totally occupied by Dean’s tear. Dean didn’t pull away when Sam’s face was suddenly just an inch away from his. Their eyes met, Sam’s gleaming with curiosity.

“That’s okay, Sammy, don’t worry,” Dean mumbled and wanted to wipe the treacherous tears away, but the warmth of Sam’s tongue on his cheek stopped him. Dean closed his eyes, letting the werewolf lick the wet trails away. A monster of Purgatory or not, this was Dean’s brother, his lover, his reason to live. Dean’s arms came up hesitantly and he hugged Sam gently. Sam didn’t protest and with a quiet whine he sniffed at Dean’s ear.

The door behind Dean’s back opened abruptly. Sam snarled, but didn’t pull away from his brother. It was Dean who turned around to see who dared disturb them.

“Back off!” Crowley shouted, Dean’s gun in his hand and aiming at the werewolf.

“What…?”

Crowley didn’t let Dean finish his question, he grabbed his collar and pulled him out from the car. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he cried angrily.

“I… was feeding the werewolf?” Dean offered innocently, feeling actually embarrassed for being caught in a moment of his weakness.

“Feeding! Exactly! With your own flesh!” Crowley scowled at Sam still growling at him.

“What?” Dean asked, confused.

“Not everyone is as blind as you. He was about to take a good bite of you.”

Dean glanced at Sam huddled under the blanket, glaring and snarling menacingly. Was what Crowley said true? Did Sam want to kill him?

He turned back to Crowley, a nervous smile playing on his lips. “You surely just misinterpreted it.”

“Did I?” Crowley said mockingly and put the gun into Dean’s hands. “He’s not your brother anymore, he’s a monster. The sooner you get it, the better for both of you.” He took a deep breath, and then patting Dean’s shoulder, he said: “I wish you good luck.”

Dean recoiled. “Wait! You’re leaving?”

“What does it look like? I’m not suicidal, and killing is exactly what Raphael’s going to do with me if he meets me.”

“I need you to stay with Sam while I’ll be talking to that girl.”

“Me?” Crowley gave Dean a look as though the older Winchester was insane.

“Uhm.”

“You must be kidding me.”

“I can’t leave him alone and I can’t take him with me either. I need someone to keep an eye on him. You owe us that much.”

Crowley glanced at Sam. “Fine. But there must be silver on him! I’m not risking him to bite me again.”

Dean frowned, but didn’t say anything. He got into the car to Sam. His brother looked at him mistrustfully, but didn’t growl.

“I need you to wait here for me for a while, but you must be a good boy, Sammy, and not to cause any trouble,” Dean said to him and reached out cautiously to pull the blanket high to Sam’s chin. The confusion in his brother’s face was obvious and kind of adorable. The bloodlust was gone for a moment, exchanged by total innocence. Sam gazed at Dean, his eyes asking what this was about.

“It’s okay, we just need to take some precautions to make sure you’ll behave.”

Dean heard a snort behind his back, but he ignored it. He pulled the silver chain out of his pocket. Sam frowned and a growl left his throat as Dean neared with the thing.

“It’s okay, Sam, look.” Dean put the chain into Sam’s lap covered by the blanket. “It doesn’t hurt, right?”

Sam watched the silver chain, still scowling at it.

Dean moved the chain slowly from Sam’s lap to his chest. “See? It’s absolutely all right.”

“You’re playing with him like with a child. Or a retard…” Crowley said in a bored tone.

“I don’t want to scare him, okay? I need him to trust me,” Dean grunted.

“Good luck with that,” Crowley said sarcastically.

Dean’s attention moved back to Sam. He put the chain around the werewolf’s neck, making sure it didn’t touch the skin anywhere.

“That’s great. Good boy.” Dean smiled when Sam didn’t protest. He looked into those unknowing eyes. Sam never stopped watching him, but there was no spark that always made him Dean’s.

“You have to trust me, Sammy,” he continued and took the silver D into his hand. “Look at this.” Sam didn’t. “D stands for Dean. Like in… devoted to you.” Dean whispered the last words. He didn’t want Crowley to hear them, even though Sam didn’t seem to give a rat’s ass about their meaning. “Devoted means… that I’ll never let you down, Sam, I’ll never do that,” he went on in a low voice. “But I need to know I can trust you as well. I need you to stay here and wait for me.” He let the pendant fall on Sam’s chest protected by the blanket. “See, Sam? I trust you. I won’t let the silver hurt you and as long as you trust me, nothing bad will happen to you.”

“Good Lord of Hell! What have I done?” Crowley whined. The son of a bitch probably heard every word.

“I’m done here,” Dean said coldly, getting out of the Impala. “Don’t upset him…” he glanced at Sam still staring at him, “… too much,” he finished his sentence, turning away from those eyes, so familiar and yet so strange.

*

Dean ran up the stairs leading to a nice, clean porch and knocked on the door in front of him. A woman came to open.

“How can I help you?” she asked.

“Hello, my name is Dean. I came to see Emily. Is she at home?”

The woman smiled and stepped aside. “Come in.”

Dean entered a spacious living room.

“Have a seat, I’ll call her.”

The woman left him alone for a while. When she returned, a sixteen or seventeen-year-old girl entered the room with her.

“Hi, I’m Emily,” the girl said.

“I’m Dean, nice to meet you,” Dean replied with a smile.

“Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea? Anything else?” the woman asked.

Dean shook his head. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Okay,” the woman said and glanced at the girl. “I’ll leave you two alone.” With that she left the room.

The girl, Emily, settled in an armchair in front of the couch where Dean was sitting. “How can I help you?” she asked, sizing Dean up.

“I… heard you help people,” he started hesitantly, already feeling stupid. A girl talking to a dead angel, right… “I heard you healed them.”

“I do heal them.”

“How?”

Emily smiled. “An angel leads me.”

“An angel,” Dean repeated, giving the girl a mistrustful look. “An archangel?”

“Yes,” she replied. “Archangel Raphael.”

“How do you know it’s him?”

“He told me.”

Dean smiled doubtfully. “He told you. Of course…”

“He’s the Great Healer of Heaven. He gives me advice how to use my powers.”

“You have powers?” Dean expected it to be the angel’s powers the girl used. Like his vessel. Or it could be powers given by a demon in case the girl was tricked… or lying. The fact that the powers were actually hers was something new.

“Yes,” she said. “I didn’t know how to use them. He taught me. Now I can help people.

“Why would an angel do that?” Really, why? They were just dicks who minded their own wars, especially Raphael. It was more likely that a demon was up to something. But… wouldn’t Crowley know something about that? Maybe this was a trap and Dean fell into it…

“He said God had a plan for him.”

Dean smirked. “God’s plan, sure. Look here, missy. God doesn’t care about this world anymore. Angels, demons… they all do whatever they want.”

“Raphael said God didn’t want him to die. He wanted him to help someone specific, but didn’t tell him who. Raphael thinks it’s a part of his punishment for the things he had done.”

Punishment! And what was Castiel’s punishment? Dying like a rat? Where was the justice in it? Why did God save Raphael but didn’t save Cass? Was Raphael better? And what was the Lord’s plan with his son?

“Why should I believe all of this?” Dean asked, piercing the girl with his look.

Emily smiled. “You came here; that means you are looking for help. Why don’t you try it, then? You have nothing to lose, do you?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

“I’m just a girl who couldn’t control her powers. Now I can, but I still have loads to learn.”

“Did Raphael ask you to let him inside your body sometimes?”   

Emily shook her head. “Never.”

“Hm…” The girl seemed innocent, but how many times were they tricked? Yet, Emily was his only hope. Should he risk it? “Can you heal a damaged soul? Like… really damaged.”

Emily looked surprised. “I’ve never done that, but I can try. I’ll ask Raphael how to do it. But you have to tell me what exactly your problem is.”

“It’s my brother,” Dean said, a sigh of defeat escaping his mouth. “He was bitten by a werewolf and he turned into one himself. He no longer knows who he is and who I am. He’s a true beast that turns into its animal form at night and hunts demons to suck their blood.”

Emily blinked. “Wow. I’m not sure it’s within my powers to fix such damage, but as I said, I’ll talk to Raphael and ask him what to do.”

“When?”

“Tonight.”

“It’s too long. I need him as soon as possible.”

“I… can try to speak with him even now, but… there mustn’t be any people around. It can be dangerous for them.”

Dean smiled knowingly. Yes, he had an experience… “Please, do it,” he said.

She stood up. “Where can I find you after that?”

“I have a car parked in the forest behind the town; I’ll wait there for you.” Dean stood up as well.

Emily nodded. “All right. Show me where and I’ll find you there after I talk to Raphael. It can take some time, so be patient.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Both of them exited the house and walked together to the forest. The first thing Dean noticed when he saw the Impala was an open back door and neither Sam nor Crowley was anywhere to be seen. “Son of a bitch!”

Emily gave him a startled look.

Dean turned to her. “You talk to the angel and I’ll look for my brother meanwhile.”

She nodded and hurried away while Dean ran to the car. A torn rope was lying on the backseat, the blanket was gone. Dean cursed again. _I could’ve known this was coming_. But where the hell was Crowley? Where were both of them?

He closed the door of the car and looked around. The two could be anywhere. Dean reached into his jacket and pulled out the gun. Ready to shoot, he walked deeper into the forest, looking around and listening to every sound.

“Sam! Crowley!” he called, but no one answered. “Sammy!”

It couldn’t be true. After weeks and weeks of looking for him was Dean to lose his brother again? No, Dean didn’t want to accept that. “Sam, come back! I have something good for you!”

The forest was perfectly silent. Dean walked deeper, calling Sam’s name (and sometimes even Crowley’s), but no response came, nothing talking about the presence of those two.

Dean kept searching. He didn’t want to accept the fact that Sam might have been miles away already and Crowley simply disappeared wherever he wanted.

Suddenly a great strength from behind shoved him against a thick tree trunk and the gun was knocked from his hand. A content purr sounded close to his ear – not the gentle one he remembered, but lustful and wicked. Hot tongue licked his neck while strong, firm body was pressing him to the tree.

“Let go, Sam,” he said in a commanding tone, hoping it would work.

The werewolf didn’t react at all. He wound his arms around Dean’s waist, pulling him closer and when the hunter felt the first thrust against his sorry ass (how thankful Dean was for the thick layer of jeans!), he got it all. He tried to kick the werewolf, even reached for the blanket he was still wrapped in.

A warning came immediately that if he didn’t stop, he would regret it till the end of his life (which meant probably less than a minute). The sharp teeth pressed against the skin protecting a pulsing artery were enough of a threat. Dean stopped squirming while the werewolf kept humping him ferociously.

“Fuck, Sam, you don’t want to do this!”

A dark growl against his skin told him exactly who the master of the situation was.

“You beast… You freaking beast!” Dean gave up. It was easier to believe this wasn’t Sam, that there was nothing of his brother. Sam would never have wanted to hurt him; Sam would have listened to him, listened to the tone of Dean’s voice at least. He would have stopped and his confused eyes would have been asking what the hell was wrong. But this creature? This was just an animal – vengeful and vicious, and Dean hated it, hated from the bottom of his heart.

“Give me Sam back. Give my brother back, you monster…”

His voice was weak, breaking on every word. He didn’t fight anymore. What could he do against the werewolf’s strength? And there were still the teeth, still the threat of dying and taking Sam with him. Would Sam have wanted it like that? If he had known about Dean’s suffering, would he have wanted it to end here and now in such a bloody way? Sam wouldn’t have minded to go to Purgatory again, Dean was sure about that, but he wouldn’t have wanted his brother to die like this, like a fuck toy and a prey of a werewolf. Sam would never have wanted Dean to give up like this. Sam would have wanted him to be somewhere far and safe, but that was another story…

Dean stood there, waiting for the beast to take what he wanted. The werewolf obviously thought that his prey surrendered, the teeth were gone, but the tongue was licking Dean’s neck. Dean felt sick and couldn’t wait for the moment when the werewolf let him go and he would be able to feed him with as much silver as possible. Not for the humiliation, but for killing everything good that was in Sam.

“I knew the right bait would lure you out,” a cold voice echoed from behind their backs.

The werewolf stopped immediately and pulled away, but his hands were still holding Dean’s hips firmly. Dean looked around, seeing Crowley coming close. _Where was the fucker the whole time?_

The werewolf growled menacingly, still not letting go of his victim, but his grip wasn’t that firm anymore. He was torn between fucking Dean some more and jumping the demon. Dean used the chance and tore off the blanket from the werewolf’s body.

The silver chain touched the skin and the werewolf screamed. Dean watched the beast going down to the ground and writhing in pain, his face hard and emotionless.

“That was a good move,” Crowley said appreciatively, but Dean ignored him. He picked up his gun and aimed it at the werewolf. The beast sobbed, his beautiful hazel eyes pleading for mercy.

“I would kill you right away if you didn’t have Sam’s face. Call yourself lucky. Dick,” he said hatefully.

“Nice speech,” Crowley said, clapping his hands in a mocking gesture. The look Dean gave him wasn’t any friendlier than the look he gave the werewolf. “I brought you something,” the demon said, vanishing for a moment to appear on another spot with a triumphant grin. He handed Dean a long silver chain. Dean took it hesitantly, glancing at the squealing werewolf squirming on the ground. And he didn’t think twice…

He came up to the monster that imprisoned his brother somewhere deep inside his own body and grabbed his hands. The werewolf screamed again, trying to free from Dean’s grip, but there was Crowley holding him still for Dean to wound the chain around his wrists and then even around his body.

The werewolf was crying, like really crying like a baby, and begging in loud whimpers. Nothing of that could touch Dean’s heart.

They waited a few moments longer until the beast stopped squirming and just lay there, sobbing and shaking all over. After that they pulled the werewolf to his feet and led to the car. Barely did they get him in when Emily returned. She sized Crowley up, unsure.

“It’s okay,” Dean said. “He helps me here. What did Raphael say?”

She glanced at the car and she must have seen the werewolf there. Her eyes were suddenly doubtful.

“He needs help, Emily. As soon as possible,” Dean said, glancing at the car, too, and finally he could feel regret. Sam was there in that body, and Dean was torturing him like this. What was he for a brother? “I don’t want him to suffer any longer…”

Emily nodded and finally she spoke: “He wants you to go home and wait.”

“Wait for what?” Dean looked at the girl.

“I don’t know.”

Dean took a deep breath, feeling pain turning into anger coming from the desperation. He turned to the car, his baby, the gift from his brother, his lover, his everything… and hit the hood hard.

“I knew it! Freaking angel dick!” he cried. What the hell did he expect? Raphael helping the Winchesters? Oh, come on! What an idiot he was! Trusting a demon, trusting an angel… how low could he still fall? He glanced into the car and his eyes met the hazel-green he loved so much… and it was dark and deep and scared.

“He’ll help you,” the girl peeped, and there was so much conviction in her words, that Dean didn’t have the heart to tell her how wrong she was.

“Would you mind if I don’t walk you home?” He wanted to be as far away from here as possible. He wanted to be home, in their cottage, where he could deal with the burden he had on the backseat.

Emily shook her head and without any parting word she hurried away from this strange company.

Dean, not giving a single look to Crowley, got into the car and started the engine. The demon was sitting in the passenger’s seat anyway. They both were quiet, only the werewolf’s whines were cutting the comforting purr of the Impala like a sharp blade.

“What happened?” Dean asked finally.

“His powers returned and he tore the rope,” Crowley said matter-of-factly.

“And?”

“And? I really didn’t feel like being his guinea pig to test them on me…”

“So you ran.”

“I wouldn’t call it like that.”

“You let him escape.” Dean’s voice was as cold as ice.

“What was I supposed to do?” Crowley said, anger echoing in his voice.

“There was silver on him…”

“Sorry, but he didn’t wave his cloak like Batman. He’s not stupid. He knew what to do if he didn’t want the silver to get to his skin. There was no chance to take off that blanket of him unless I wanted him to feed on my blood again.”

Dean stayed quiet. Maybe there really was nothing Crowley could do…

Silence settled between them again, only the werewolf’s soft sobs were heard. Dean turned on the radio and all the noises from the backseat died in the loud music.

“Well, it seems it’s time to go,” the demon said lightly.

Dean glanced at him, not saying anything.   

“You don’t need to thank me,” Crowley said and disappeared.

Only then Dean stopped on the side of the road and burst out from the car. He doubled on the ground, feeling sick and weak and exhausted. What the hell was he supposed to do? What the fucking, freezing, sickening hell was he supposed to do!?

And suddenly the werewolf’s heart dampened Dean’s frantic heartbeat, turning it slow and uneven. _Crap!_

_*_

Dean took off all the silver from Sam’s body… body he had loved touching, he had loved watching – every stretch of a muscle, each curve… had loved kissing every single inch of it… That body was scarred now; long burns into flesh were stretching across Sam’s chest and arms, around his wrists and around his neck… Glassy eyes tried to focus on him, but they were to weary to stay open.

The werewolf slept for long hours and only his heartbeat told Dean that he was still alive. The wounds weren’t healing and Dean knew they would never heal completely as well as the scar after the silver bullet on Sam’s shoulder blade or his chest or the scars after old burns around his neck. His body was as scarred as his soul… but now his soul was rotten to the very core.

Dean, deep in thought, didn’t even register when he stopped feeling the werewolf’s heartbeat. The beast was still sleeping and Dean checked on him every now and then to make sure he wasn’t dangerous.

It was almost midnight when the werewolf woke up. Dean showed him the silver chains, scaring him, and the werewolf curled up under the dirty blanket. He gave no sound, still too weak. Dean left him alone and shortly after the sunrise when he stopped by at 24/7 convenient store, he bound his hands with silver again. Probably he was too radical; the werewolf was too weak even to shriek out loud, yet he was crying like a baby. Nothing of that made Dean change his mind about the silver. He lost his trust in this creature; without silver he didn’t believe him a single whine.

It was early morning when Dean finally reached the cottage – their home, their sanctuary – and after he stopped the Impala and looked around the area, he felt a painful stab in his chest. He got out from the car, glancing at the werewolf and making sure the beast was still sleeping, and then with a heavy feeling he entered the cottage. Every freaking corner was breathing with Sam, every inch of this freaking place reminded Dean of his brother much more than the creature huddled under the dirty blanket in the backseat of his car.

Sam was gone. Maybe not totally, but Dean was losing his hope to see his brother human and sane ever again. He crossed the room, trying to ignore Sam’s books, Sam’s clothes, Sam’s cell phone… He walked to the kitchen counter and took the first dishcloth he found, hurrying out from the cottage.

He opened a back door of the Impala and grabbed the werewolf’s hand, winding the dishcloth around the burned wrist. The werewolf raised his head, watching Dean sleepily, and it was incredible that despite the lack of speech his eyes were able to say everything. Dean could read the question in them what the fuck he was doing right now. Of course, he didn’t reply. What for? Words wouldn’t have told the werewolf anything. Actions he understood.

Dean reached for the silver chain from Crowley lying on the floor under the seat right now. The werewolf growled immediately, glaring at the chain, trying to pull out his hand from Dean’s grip.

Dean scowled. “Do I look like I care about your opinion?” he asked icily, winding the chain around the werewolf’s wrist in the place protected by the dishcloth. Only when a padlock closed the tight loop, Dean let go.

“Come out,” he commanded, pulling the chain. The werewolf was looking daggers, but was still too weak to protest or even attack. He crawled out from the car, following Dean to one of the trees growing near to the cottage. Dean tied the chain around the trunk, binding the werewolf to the tree, making sure the chain was too short for the monster attacking him in the doorway of the cottage, but long enough for the werewolf to hide in the shed in case it rained or it was cold outside. It was spring and snow was long gone already, but the night temperatures were still low.

Dean gave the werewolf the old, dirty blanket and left him alone. He was exhausted and wanted to rest for a while – there was nothing better he could do anyway – but when he glanced out from the window, seeing the werewolf looking back at him, he knew he wouldn’t be able to find the bit of peace he was looking for in the cottage at all. Dean didn’t get it. He had seen how cruel the creature could be, how sly and malevolent he was, and there was still so much of Sam in his features when something was beyond his understanding. He was gazing at the window for such a long time that Dean started contemplating taking him in, but then the wind changed and the werewolf sniffed the air, turning away from the cottage, giving a long howl.

This was a wild animal. Wild animals didn’t belong inside. They were too dangerous.

Dean stretched on the bed which he used to share with his brother. The sheets had lost Sam’s scent, at least Dean couldn’t smell it anymore, and that even deepened the feeling of loneliness that had settled in his heart. He got up and started rummaging through Sam’s clothes, finding one of his brother’s favorite shirts.

Dean returned in bed, burying his face in the shirt. It had been washed, but it didn’t smell of the laundry detergent anymore, not talking about Sam’s scent. Maybe it was better that way, because he fell asleep much sooner than he would have if he could smell Sam and had known his brother wasn’t there.

A new howl echoed, but wasn’t able to penetrate Dean’s dream. 

*

He pulled the padlock again, this time with more force.

“Leave that alone,” sounded menacingly behind his back. He looked over his shoulder to see the Human with the freaking gun aimed at him. He snorted scornfully, stepping away from the tree. He had no doubts about the guy shooting him in the arm (or leg?) if he tried to break the thingie again. Especially if this was his fourth try today. In three days.

He still could feel the pain from the blow of the silver hellfire on his back. That was his punishment for his (almost successful) attempt to escape. The Human must have had eyes even on his sorry (and so damn fuckable) ass.

He licked his arm he accidentally burned on the freaking chain binding him to the fudging tree. He noticed that the guy was looking at him with regret when he thought the werewolf couldn’t see him. Haha, idiot! He COULD see him. He could see him too well. He could see that sorrow and longing and loneliness. And he could hear that fucking, stupid word that made HIM feel sad and missing something important and lonely. Sam. That idiotic word felt like a silver blade in the chest, like icy fire, and he didn’t know whether he was burning or freezing. Whatever it was, it caused him dull pain whenever he heard it. He hated it. Together with the Human. Sam and the Human, they became one for him and most of the time he ended up thinking about the Human as Sam. So… he started calling him that way in his sweet-smelling, tasty, bloody world.

Sam… the Human… Mr. Moron… was weird in any sense of the word. He captured him, tortured with silver (but looked like he was suffering even more himself), tried to tame him with sweet words (fucking words that HURT, jerk!), and when it didn’t work, he brought him to the thin line between life and death – and still didn’t let him die. The motherfucker tied him to this stupid tree; he took all the freedom from this poor child of Mother of All and held him captive! He deserved to die.

He licked his lips. The plan was easy: Restore his strength, break free and kill the motherfuckerfreaking asshole. But before he gave him the final blow, he’d have fun with him. That sweet ass was _screaming_ to be fucked, to be ripped wide open for the werewolf’s big, thick cock. He would sink into Sam’s heat balls deep, fuck him hard without mercy, would bath in his blood and tears, and would laugh at his cries. He would take a bite of that tender flesh, drink the life from his dying body. He would have his revenge for all the pain the son of a bitch made him suffer. He hated him.

So why the fuck the sole idea of killing this person always made him feel like he was losing something important?

*

He was shaking with cold that bit into him and didn’t want to leave for two days already. He felt as weak as after a dose of silver, but he wasn’t aware of any contact with the freaking poison, and even Sam looked worried, though he didn’t try to come closer after the attack a day ago when he tried to feed his new pet.

Freaking son of a bitch!

As he was lying on the cold ground (so comfortable!) of some shack, staring through the open door at the leaves rustling in treetops and his mind was full of demon blood, he realized maybe that was Sam’s true intention. He wanted an unusual pet… which was dying now…

Served the asshole right! He would rather die than become a stupid watchdog of the fucker.

*

“Sam. Sammy.”

He felt a gentle touch on his burning forehead. The voice sounded broken, but maybe he was just imagining that. The arms that helped him to sit up and he would have broken them without any effort normally felt much, much stronger than they should have.

“Sam, you need to drink. You’ll feel better.”

The voice was soft and the touch would have been comfortable if it didn’t try to make him think of something that was buried deep under the layers and layers of bloodlust, locked with pain and suffering. It was never supposed to be revealed, those memories (or whatever it was) were dead… and what was dead should stay dead, right?

He whined and looked at Sam (fucking jerk) with pleading eyes. _Stop. Just stop using that word…_

“Drink.”

A cup was pressed to his dry lips. He hoped, he really, really did hope that Sam would understand by now that water was just a weak substitute for blood and that only blood could save his pet. But obviously seeing the werewolf’s suffering was exactly what the jerk wanted.

 _I hate you,_ he thought and it came out as a dark growl.

“Stop growling and drink. It’ll help you.”

He turned his head away. It was the only thing he was able to do to avoid that disgusting dull taste. He wanted demon blood. He needed it to get his strength back.

But… maybe… just maybe…

“No, Sam. Drink, you idiot…”

Sam’s voice trembled and the werewolf fixed his tired eyes on him. Maybe… human blood could do the job as well…

He waited until Sam put the cup to his lips again, and he raised his hands to grab his arm… Sam didn’t suspect any mischief obviously; he didn’t even flinch away from the heated touch. The werewolf opened his mouth and sipped from the water… It brought a weak smile to Sam’s face – _Ha! Gotcha! You indulge in suffering of helpless creatures, jerk!_

“That’s it, Sammy, good boy.”

He inhaled, trying to suppress the pain. This was his chance, the moment of distraction, and the werewolf pulled Sam closer, his mouth finding soft skin of his hand quickly, his teeth trying to break it.

“Son of a bitch!” Sam was on his feet immediately, but there was no taste of blood, not even a drop visible on the hand.

He sighed and lay down on the ground, curling up, not caring about the wet spot under him.

Sam left him alone, but he returned in a while with the gun.

 _Yes, send me home._ He uncurled, revealing his chest to the barrel. _I wanna go home…_

And he saw her. As clear as nothing else in the past few days (or weeks?). And he loathed her. Sam saw her, too, so it couldn’t be a hallucination.

“I should’ve known you’d show up, bitch,” Sam said, and it sounded just like a random order of sounds – but it was nothing new. He didn’t know Sam’s language, Sam didn’t know his. Not a big deal.

“Watch your mouth, Dean Winchester. I’m here to fulfill the fate of the two of you,” she answered and her words didn’t sound as strange as Sam’s. Maybe because she was there to talk to both of them.

“I’m sure you have something nice for me for killing Sam,” Sam replied with disdain.

“I have something absolutely worth you,” she answered matter-of-factly and turned to the werewolf. “How are you, Sam? Demon detox is hard, especially when it’s for the third time, isn’t it?”

He understood every word she said and the way she addressed him confused him a bit. Sam… he should have recognized the word, but he didn’t. It sounded totally different coming from her mouth than Sam’s. He knew the word referred to him; _he_ was S…

He howled. Pain so great that he thought his head was going to split took over him. SamSamSamSamSam… The word was like a stab into his brain. Digging deep to the core of who he was… Who was he? He had no idea and he thought that if he had tried to find out, it would never have stopped.

“Leave him alone, bitch! You’re hurting him!” he heard Sam yelling.

“I’m not doing anything,” she said coldly. “I’m here just to wait for you two to decide your fate.”

Through the mist in front of his eyes he could see the hand that held the gun sink along Sam’s body and the jerk descended on his knees next to the werewolf, still glaring at the woman. Fate. He knew her… But from where?

He felt the gentle touch of a hand wiping away the sweat from his forehead. He would have relaxed into the touch, he would have let the asshole fool him with pretended kindness (for fuck’s sake, it felt so good…) if the hated word hadn’t sounded into the silence, causing pain, pain, pain… Sam meant evil. Sam meant suffering. He hated Sam as much as he hated this guy. They merged into one and if the guy died, Sam would be gone. Kill Sam and stop the suffering…

“Sammy. It’s okay…”

_SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!_

He didn’t know where the strength came from. He plunged forward, shoving the asshole on the ground. He bared his teeth, growling darkly, and if the cold sensation of a barrel pressed against his forehead hadn’t ordered him to stop, he would have torn this guy into shreds. They were gazing at each other, trying to read each other’s next move. They were absolutely motionless, just their chests were heaving in the frantic rhythm of their breathing.

Suddenly the gun was gone and he was staring into the eyes talking about surrender.

“Come on, finish me off. Do the bitch the favor and kill us. It’s what you wanted all along.”

Fate crouched beside them. “He says you shall kill him,” she said with a content smile.

He didn’t stop gazing into the sad green eyes. He didn’t trust the jerk, but he trusted this bitch even less. She enjoyed this and she couldn’t wait to see blood having been spilt. And she didn’t even care which one of them would die.

 _No,_ he snarled his disagreement, and he trembled with rising fever.

She stood up. “Fine. I’m patient. You’ll kill each other sooner or later, anyway. And I’ll be there to watch and help to fulfill your fate.”

 _Just get lost_ , he growled at her tiredly, collapsing on the warm body under him. World spun in front of his eyes and he shut them quickly, falling into a nightmare.

*

He saw demons – hundreds of them – and they were trying to tear him alive, to rip muscles and feed on his flesh, drink his blood and make him suffer. And there was Sam, holding the gun aimed and the werewolf was pleading with him to shoot, to end this torture. But Sam never shot, and the sad look of his eyes was worse than oceans of demons tearing him into the tiniest pieces possible.

And then he woke up, feeling kind hands taking care of him, wiping the sweat from his forehead, giving him food and trying to make him drink (disgusting) water. They covered him with soft blanket when he was cold, wrapped around him when a new nightmare captured him. He felt safe in their embrace, and that feeling was so familiar and yet so distant like a memory fleeting on the border of his consciousness and when he tried to focus on it, it disappeared.

The nightmares stopped coming so often and if they did come, there were always those comforting arms, enclosing him in their embrace protectively. He felt safe and… what was that other feeling? It was long forgotten and fuck, it was sad and painful and yet so sweet and wonderful.

He snuggled against the source of the soothing warmth, opening his weary eyes, expecting to see blood everywhere around... but no! This time he could see a small room and a window behind which towered the tree he had been bound to. Where the fuck was he now?

The softness of the mattress under him made him focus on the things surrounding him. There were many things inside the room – some of them he recognized, some of them he didn’t – and there were those protective arms holding him… and when he looked up, he could see Sam’s handsome face reflecting the deepest sorrow and hopelessness.

He couldn’t hate him. Not right now. He was too tired for that and the dried-up traces of tears brought compassion, not loathing.

He touched the cheeks and licked the salt from them. Sam let him do what he wanted, silent and motionless. He looked like a broken man, broken so much that there was nothing that could ever fix him. There was grief in his eyes, loneliness and resignation.

 _Are you giving up?_ He couldn’t get it. Sam kept being silent and he still didn’t move. He was staring back at the werewolf and there was no hope in future in his whole posture. His face had the expression of a man who lost everything.

 _Why don’t you say anything?_ His fingers touched Sam’s lips, and the question was surely in his look, because Sam shook his head and tightened his embrace.

“You hate when I talk,” he whispered.

They were gazing at each other for a long time, trying to find out what the other one thought and felt. It was tiring and after a while the werewolf had enough and he closed his eyes, leaning against Sam’s chest. Gentle fingers stroked his hair and then the arm was wrapped around him again.

_Maybe Sam isn’t that bad… Maybe he’s just looking for something he can’t find… Poor bastard…_

And suddenly his exhausted mind realized that trusting Sam was as natural as breathing. Maybe they just didn’t get each other…

*

When he woke up again, he found Sam sleeping next to him. The guy obviously had nothing to lose and even his own life didn’t matter anymore. The werewolf felt sorry for him.

He watched the features of Sam’s face peaceful in his sleep, but the sorrow was still visible. The werewolf wondered what this handsome face looked like when Sam was happy. A black string around the guy’s neck caught his attention. The thing that was hanging on it was hidden under the layer of clothes, but the werewolf knew what the thing was. Another cause of his pain. And even though Sam never took it off, he kept it hidden from the werewolf’s sight. Why?

He stretched out his hand and touched the creased forehead with his index finger lightly. Sam frowned in his sleep, turning away from the touch. The werewolf sniggered, touching the guy’s forehead again, following the path towards the tip of Sam’s nose.

Sam opened his eyes and looked at the werewolf. He didn’t say anything; he didn’t even try to leave the bed. The werewolf grinned and let the finger slide to Sam’s lips, and then the chin. Sam never gave a sign it was making him feel uncomfortable. He was just staring and his eyes were oddly empty.

The finger touched Sam’s neck and the werewolf could feel the faint pulse. It made him smile and he stroked the artery. It was fascinating how life was being pumped into the body, making him go on and live, and that was why Sam’s next reaction surprised him so much. The guy tilted his head, looking somewhere at the dirty floor, and when he spoke, his voice was flat… lifeless.

“Go on, that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Sam was empty. His human life became nothing. Maybe death was the best option for him. And maybe… there was a different life waiting for him… if just…

The werewolf licked the neck, feeling excitement filling him. Maybe having a companion was not such a bad idea after all…   

*

Dean had enough. He was tired and empty – dead inside, so why not to finish it for good? Sam didn’t know him… didn’t want to know him… and whenever Dean tried to remind him anything from their past, he became violent. He especially hated his own name, which Dean didn’t understand at all. And the amulet, but that was easy to hide under the clothes at least.

He expected the detox wouldn’t be a nice thing, but it was breaking his heart when he saw the creature that was once his brother curled up under the tree shaking and sweating, whining with pain the silver chain touching his skin caused him and he still didn’t try to escape from it. Dean untied him and brought into the cottage in the end, taking care of the abstaining werewolf the best he could.

His task wasn’t easy. Sometimes the werewolf couldn’t even move, and sometimes he attacked out of the blue. Dean hated causing him more pain, but if he wanted to survive, he had no other choice.

And then he broke. It came so suddenly and unexpectedly. Well, he had been reaching this point for some time already, but the thought of giving up and letting Sam kill him (because he wasn’t able to raise the gun and shoot his brother ever again, no matter how often he threatened the son of a bitch inside Sam’s body) was suddenly tempting. He was exhausted. He had enough of this cursed life, not living, not dying, just holding back the evil he wasn’t able to destroy.

When he wrapped his arms around the barely conscious werewolf for the first time and felt his hot breath on his neck, he suddenly realized his hope that the freaking archangel would bring his ass down and use his mojo to save both of them had been long gone.

Sam was finally better, but his eyes stayed the same – they were eyes of a stranger, of danger and violence that was hidden by curiosity right now. No love, no affection, no gentleness he knew. Sam was gone and he was not coming back. This was an animal kept in captivity and it longed for freedom, dreamed about it. But Dean couldn’t let it go, couldn’t give it what it wanted. But he wasn’t able to go on; he didn’t have the strength anymore. It was much easier to die here and now with Sam close to him.

He exposed his pulsing artery to the deadly teeth of the werewolf, noticing the confusion in his eyes, but then the beast leaned forward and licked Dean’s neck excitedly. Dean closed his eyes, waiting for the teeth to dig into his flesh; he felt them scrape over his skin, when a strange authoritative voice echoed in the room:

“Stop it!”

Both Dean and the werewolf looked in the direction from where the voice came. A girl was standing in the doorway with furious look of her eyes and hard expression on her face.

“Emily?” Dean breathed out while the werewolf growled darkly and retreated into the safety under the blanket, from where he was glaring at the comer.

“Guess again,” the girl said, stepping inside, her steps steady and confident, her face hard and not girly at all.

“Raphael,” Dean said, standing up from the bed. Sam was curled up in a ball under the blanket and one could see only his fiery eyes piercing the archangel, blaming him for spoiling this bloody moment and afraid of him in the same time. His quiet growls disturbed the heavy silence in the room.

Raphael stopped and stared at the werewolf huddled under the blanket. The growls became more menacing and louder.

“Just in time,” the angel said as if for himself.

Dean took a deep breath. What did this angel dick think? Just in time? Just in time before they both died? Before the blonde bitch calling Fate could cross out their names from her list?

“You must be kidding me! I called you almost a whole month ago, I begged for help, and you’re coming just now? What the hell took you so long?” he cried, outraged.

Raphael moved his attention from Sam to Dean. “I wouldn’t be so rude if I were you, Dean Winchester. I’m neither your dog nor your slave.” His voice was cold and hard, sending chill up Dean’s spine. The hunter glared, but stayed silent. “As you know,” Raphael continued, “your angel friend Castiel, the traitor of Heaven, killed me. God – the true one – brought me back, but I was weak. What you ask me for is not an easy task and my powers are not enough to heal your wolfed brother. I’ll have to use the strength of this human child.”

Dean glanced at Sam, still hidden under the blanket, but ready to attack if he felt an imminent danger. He kept growling at the angel, trying to look as dangerous as possible even though he was scared shitless – a sad caricature of Dean’s once bold and dauntless brother.

“Will the child survive?” he asked tentatively.

“Maybe.”

“Couldn’t you find someone else and not a kid as your vessel?”

Raphael frowned. “You don’t get it, do you? I’m weak, I don’t have enough strength to heal _anyone._ I needed a special vessel, so I found a witch. It was just a matter of time when she would have become and apprentice of some other witch teaching her dark arts. I was a better choice, her soul is saved now.”

 _B_ _ullshit. Emily’s a kid who needs a teacher, not an angel taking over her body and killing her in a process of healing someone,_ Dean thought, but he didn’t say it out loud.

“She knows she may die.”

“What did you tell her that she agreed?” Dean was angry and he was very well aware that his anger was coming from hopelessness. He may kill the child or he would lose his brother for sure.

“I didn’t need to tell her anything. Fate did. The girl was doomed to death. Hunters already knew about her.”

“You’re trying to tell me you saved her?”

“I did.”

Dean snorted. There had been only one angel he could trust, and even he turned out to be a traitor in the end. He ran his hand over his face in frustration, thinking about what to do when Raphael spoke again:

“It’s not your place to decide the future of the girl. The decision was made long ago.” He looked at the werewolf. “Let’s talk about the price now. What do you offer for your brother’s humanity?”

Price, of course… The dicks never did anything for free…

“What would someone like you want?” Dean asked coldly.

“What would someone like you give to have their brother back?”

Dean’s face hardened. “I promise that as long as I’m alive I won’t try to chase you down. Your life for Sam’s.”

Raphael smiled, but the smile on Emily’s face looked scary and absolutely not friendly. Probably it wasn’t even supposed to look like that. “My life. I always knew you were cocky and rude, but that you were such a fool, I didn’t expect. I misjudged you.”

“So what do you want?” Dean asked impatiently.

“Raise the bid.”

“You kinky son of a bitch,” Dean spat. “You want my soul.”

This time Raphael’s smile was sincere and therefore the scarier. “That’s what _you_ said.”

“Heal Sam, leave no scratch, and I promise while I’m alive I won’t hunt you down, and after I die, my soul will belong to you. I’ll fight for you in any stupid war you dicks up there always need to wage. Is that enough?” Dean asked, his voice emotionless.

Raphael reached out, touching Dean’s chest. Pain shot through the hunter’s body, but it was gone as fast as it came.

“The deal was sealed,” the angel said and turned to the werewolf watching the scene.

“Whatever, just heal him,” Dean grunted, catching his breath.

 The angel neared the bed. The werewolf’s warning growl came immediately.

Dean understood he had no power (and not even the will) to resist the angel. He stepped back from the bed, glancing at the werewolf, who stopped growling for a moment, and when their eyes met, Dean could read betrayed trust in them. It surprised him – he didn’t expect to finally achieve his goal, and now when he did, he was throwing everything away.

“I’m sorry, S-“ he swallowed the rest of the word. Sam’s eyes filled with disappointment turning into disdain. It hurt like hell. He wanted to let Sam know it would be fine, that there was nothing he needed to be afraid of, but the werewolf didn’t spent a single look on him anymore, better watching Raphael, who was coming closer. Sam was growling, trying to pull away from the angel’s reach, but there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide – the girl’s hand touched Sam’s forehead and the angel’s power glowed like the sun. Sam moaned, falling into the sheets, unconscious.

Dean inhaled. “What was that?”

“He’s sleeping. Now the harder part – healing,” Raphael explained, removing the blanket from Sam’s chest. He put one hand flat over Sam’s heart while the other rested on the werewolf’s forehead. “His soul is seriously damaged,” the angel broke the silence after a while.

 _You don’t say,_ Dean thought scornfully. “It’s not only his soul,” he said. “His body needs some healing as well. Make him as new as if he’s just been born.” The angel gave Dean a hard look, but the hunter didn’t care. “I gave you my soul. Don’t expect me to be satisfied with little. I want him in the best shape possible.”

“Your soul is not in the best shape either,” Raphael retorted.

Dean shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. A deal is a deal. You wanted more and I want as much as you can give in return. No crappy job done, understood?”

“The same goes for you when your soul finally reaches Heaven, hairless monkey. You’ll be my soldier and I don’t tolerate desertion,” the angel replied before his full attention moved back to Sam.

“Don’t worry about that,” Dean muttered, watching Raphael’s hand glow again, and he could see the healing power taking effect. The wounds and scars on Sam’s body were disappearing one after another. Then Emily’s smooth forehead creased, her hands used by the angel dick glowed stronger and a loud groan escaped Sam’s mouth. His body arched and a painful grimace settled on his handsome face.

Dean held his breath, feeling helpless and small. There was nothing he could do for Sam to make the pain go away, and there was no relief even in the idea that Sam’s soul was being healed. It obviously hurt a lot.

Raphael pushed harder and Sam screamed; his body was shaking violently as the angel’s power was filling his being, trying to find the pieces of humanity within him, clean them from the wolf’s poison and put them back together.

It lasted so terribly long. Sam’s screams were splitting Dean’s ears, the sight at the muscles flexing with painful spasms were more effective than any torture. He reached for his amulet, clenching it in his hand. _Sammy, come back to me…_

Sam’s exhausted body finally relaxed and his chest was heaving in a frantic rhythm of his breathing.

Raphael pulled his hands away. “He’s tired. He needs rest.”

Dean came up to the bed and sat down beside Sam. “Is he okay now?” He needed to be sure.

“Yes, he was healed. He may not remember many things right after he wakes up, but memories would come back to him eventually. He’ll remember even this last period of his change when the wolf took over his mind completely.”

Dean looked at Sam. “Can’t you block those memories?” Sam didn’t need to feel more guilty than necessary. There was already too much of it on his shoulders.

“No, there’s not enough strength left within this vessel. It wasn’t a part of the deal, anyway,” Raphael said matter-of-factly.

Dean looked at the angel in the girl’s body. “The kid?”

“She’ll live,” was the last thing Raphael said before he disappeared.

“Freaking angels,” Dean grunted as he sat down on the bed, watching his brother. Droplets of cold sweat were glistening on Sam’s forehead and he was still shivering from time to time as his body remembered the pain from the angel’s touch on his bared soul.

Dean pulled the soft blanket that had slid from Sam’s torso higher and covered his younger brother with it properly. Sam sighed quietly like a child dreaming about a toy it longed for but couldn’t have.

A small smile played on Dean’s lips. He bent to Sam’s face and delivered a tender kiss on his wet forehead. _B_ _e all right, Sammy._

He found another blanket and spread it on the floor. He threw a pillow on it and took a comforter, lying down.

He sighed into the pillow silently. Raphael said there would be things Sam wouldn’t remember after he woke up. Maybe he wouldn’t remember them, the relationship they had before the wolf took control over him.

Dean closed his eyes, trying not to think about it. Sam was healed, he was human again, and that was the only important thing now. He would remember – in the end he would regain all his memories. But it still left Dean with a question how the human Sam would react to the sincerity of the werewolf Sam. The human Sam kept his secrets well hidden and he was afraid to take what he longed for. It was the werewolf within him who made him reveal his feelings. If Dean was thankful to the wolf for something, then it was this new level of a relationship the beast pushed them into. But now, when the wolf was gone, would they fall back into being brothers and not lovers anymore? Everything depended on Sam, who was sleeping peacefully on the bed that he used to share with his brother. 

Dean curled up on the floor under the comforter, and clutching his amulet in his hand, he tried to get some sleep as well.

*

Sam’s vision was a bit foggy when he finally made himself open his eyes. His head was spinning and his stomach wasn’t in a better shape either. Crap, was he drinking all night long? And… Wait! Why was he naked? He pulled the blanket covering him higher and tried to focus on the surroundings. Huh? This didn’t look like a cheap motel room. Yet, the place looked kind of familiar.

He turned around, noticing a figure sitting on the windowsill. Oh, it was just Dean… He was leaning against the window frame and his eyes were closed. Sam had seen his brother asleep many times, but now there was something different about him. He looked tired and unhealthy and there were big dark circles under his eyes. The whole impression wasn’t of the proud hunter Sam knew, but of a man who reached the bounds of possibility.

“Dean?” Sam addressed him in a soft voice that could be easily overheard, but Dean moved and opened his eyes, rubbing them with one hand before he looked at Sam.

“Hey,” he said, and a light smile played on his lips, looking a bit unnatural in combination with the exhaustion reflecting on his face. “How’re you?”

“That’s my line,” Sam said, watching his brother. “You look like crap.”

Dean looked genuinely surprised with the statement. “Do I?” He shrugged indifferently. “Drank too much last night.”

“Is that so?” Sam asked. He doubted that even alcohol poisoning could affect Dean this much.

“Does it look different?”

 _To be honest, it does,_ Sam thought, giving Dean a scrutinizing look. “Did we drink together?” he asked out loud.

“Why do you ask?” There was too much caution in the question.

“Because I feel like crap myself.”

There was no teasing remark, no mockery, nothing Dean would normally do, just a careful look, a slight frown maybe, and a small pause that told Sam Dean was considering something.

“When it’s about drinking, you have stamina of a woman. It’s no fun competing with you,” Dean said in the end, but the reply sounded dull.

“Why am I naked?” Sam tried again in an attempt to find some lead to anything that would tell him what happened last night.

“You insisted on playing strip poker.” The answer was almost immediate and Sam knew that this one was just teasing, an obvious lie, avoidance of giving the truthful answer.

“You’re trying to make a fool of me,” Sam said tiredly, burying his face into the soft pillow.

“As if you didn’t know me,” Dean said in the same tired tone and got off the windowsill. “Are you hungry?”

Sam frowned. Was Dean ill or did he fall on his head? Such a type of questions wasn’t typical for him unless there was something not right. _Did I die again?_

“I don’t want a burger or cold pizza from yesterday,” Sam muttered, listening to Dean’s footsteps on the hard wooden floor.

“We don’t have any of that,” Dean’s voice was calm, and according to the meaning of what he had just said, it didn’t sound right.

“I’m not hungry,” Sam said, waiting for Dean’s reply. There was none.

He raised his head to see what his brother was doing. Dean was sitting at the table staring somewhere into the distance, his fingers playing with something that was hidden under his undershirt. He wasn’t all right, that much was obvious. Something was troubling him, something he was trying to hide, but failed miserably. Was that about Lisa? Was that because he had to leave her?

No, the reason must have been different. Firstly, Dean wasn’t telling truth, throwing one lie after another at Sam and he didn’t even bother make them sound believable. Secondly, there was no bottle of any alcohol in any visible place. If they had been drinking until they got this much drunk last night, there would’ve been some evidence of it, wouldn’t it? Thirdly, Sam would NEVER have played strip poker, especially not with his brother, so it hardly could be the true reason why he was naked. Fourthly, Dean was weird. He looked weird, acted weird, talked weird. Sam had seen him like this once, knowing he was the one to be blamed for that primarily (no everyone could say they let the Devil loose). Did the history repeat? Was Sam responsible for that exhausted look of Dean’s eyes?

“I’d like to get dressed if you don’t mind,” he said, watching Dean wince and give a slight nod.

“You want me to leave you alone, right, I get it. I’ll be in the car…” Sam’s brother said, hurrying to the door.

 _Well, this is definitely weird,_ Sam thought. “Hey! Where’re my clothes?”

“The pile behind the books,” Dean blurted, not even looking back, and he was out from the room.

_Okay, this was suspicious…_

Sam got out from the bed, finding the mentioned pile. Every single piece of clothing was washed and folded neatly. _Drinking competition, huh?_ This didn’t look like he was striping in some alcoholic delirium. It looked like he didn’t wear his clothes for a longer time. But why would he do that?

He pulled out one of the shirts. He didn’t recognize it. Was it Dean’s?

He put on jeans and a T-shirt he found in the pile of his clothes (those he recognized) and looked around the room. He spotted Dean’s duffel lying in a different corner. He went there, wanting to put the shirt into the bag, when he noticed something. Among all the things there he could see a shirt he knew too well. And this one definitely wasn’t Dean’s. _What the hell?_

He took it out. The shirt wasn’t clean as the rest of Sam’s clothes, which wouldn’t have surprised him if he had found it among his own things. What was going on here? What was Dean hiding?

Sam pulled on the shirt and looked around the place one more time. This didn’t look like they spent here a short time; this looked like they had settled here for a longer period.

As Sam’s look wandered from one thing to another, there were just more and more questions popping up in his head. How long were they here? And why? Why all his clothes were washed and put into a neat pile except that one shirt he found in Dean’s duffel bag? Where was his own duffel anyway? There was just one bed. Did they share it? Or did one of them sleep on the hard floor? Did they take rounds? Why was Dean acting weird? What was he hiding? Why did he look so exhausted and why did he lie, even though it was obvious he was not telling the truth? And what _the hell_ happened yesterday? How come he couldn’t remember a thing? It seemed it was time to start asking those questions out loud.

Sam walked to the door, opening them and… the list of his questions got even longer. 


	11. Back in Black

Dean gave a heavy sigh and let his eyelids fall. The smell of leather and gasoline, the characteristic smells of his baby, didn’t bring comfort to him as usual. He was too anxious, too afraid, too screwed… Did he want to go for a ride and leave his fears behind for a while, he couldn’t do that. It would have felt like running away from the only person whom he never wanted to leave.

He pulled out his amulet from its shelter under the undershirt, giving it a long look. Sam gave it to him long time ago because he thought Dean deserved it more than their Dad, who failed (as ever) to be there for his sons when they wanted nothing more than be with him and celebrate Christmas as a family. Dean wore it proudly since that time, never taking it off, promising himself to be always there for his little brother like Dad never had.

Then Heaven came between them and tore them apart. If there hadn’t been so much crap between them already, if they had tried to understand each other more, Dean would never have needed to regret the moment when he tossed that symbol of Sam’s trust and appreciation in a trash.

It was always Sam who kept him going. Without him, Dean was just a lost existence without any purpose. He always needed to know Sam was there somewhere, happy and satisfied. If it was like that, it meant he did his job right.

Sam had no idea what a power he had over his big brother. He never needed more than a simple word or a smile… or a pout (the bitch could pout as no one else) and Dean was ready to throw everything away for him. It had been like that ever since little Sammy was born and it hadn’t changed even when they reached adulthood. Whatever happened to Sam happened to Dean. There was a bond they managed to create throughout the years and what could break Dean was only the knowledge it could be one-sided. Just like he thought after they returned from Heaven…

But now things were different. They managed to clean up pretty much mess that had gathered between them; they worked hard to understand each other, to listen what the other had to say, to pay attention what the other felt. What Dean liked about their new relationship most wasn’t the physical part of it (thought it was a fantastic part), but the feeling how much he was needed, how much wanted, how important he was to his little brother, and Dean realized it had never been different. His whole life Dean wanted nothing else but to be the most important person in Sam’s universe because Sam was in his.

Dean’s whole world revolved around Sam. Sam was like the sun giving warmth and life, but he could burn everything into ashes if he just wanted to. No one could break Dean more effectively than his little brother.

He put his hands on the steering wheel, imagining a road winding in front of him, the sun gleaming on the windows and Sam sitting next to him and occupied by some map or notes about their newest case… And Dean would have known what to do or say, everything would have been simple.

The door of the cottage opened and Dean winced when he saw his brother coming, his face puzzled and he was wearing the shirt Dean took for himself during the times he missed Sam most.

Sam opened the door on the passenger’s side of the car and got in. Dean didn’t give him the chance to speak first; he knew what was coming: a waterfall of questions. Therefore he felt like a caged animal, and so he struck:

“You went through my things?” he said in an outraged tone, frowning.

Sam looked at him and his eyes widened as he noticed the amulet dangling around Dean’s neck. “ _You_ went through _my_ things?”

Dean looked away. “I didn’t,” he muttered. “You gave it to me.”

There was silence for a few heartbeats. Dean was already contemplating glancing at Sam when his brother finally replied:

“I didn’t give it to you. I wanted, but I didn’t.” Sam’s voice didn’t sound angry or accusing. It was just a statement, shadowed by uncertainty.

Dean looked at him, curious. “What do you remember?”

Sam sighed, shaking his head. “Not much. As for the amulet, I’ve remembered just now that I left it somewhere so that you could find it easily.”

Dean nodded. “That’s right. You left it on the table.”

Sam’s forehead creased and Dean knew he was thinking hard about something. “The shirt?” he asked after a while.

Dean coughed. He didn’t know how much of the truth was safe to say. “I… was out of clean shirts and you lent me yours.” It was an obvious lie, but it didn’t matter right now.

Sam gave Dean a suspicious look, but he stayed quiet.

“What were you looking for in my crap, anyway?”

“I found a shirt that wasn’t mine. I wanted to give it back to you when I found this one.”

Dean frowned. A shirt that wasn’t Sam’s? It must have been one of the new ones.

They were quiet again.

“Wanna go for a ride?” Dean broke the silence.

“Sure. Why not?” Sam’s reply came immediately, and Dean put the key into ignition and started the car.

They both were silent, even the radio stayed mute during the ride. Sam watched the land behind the window, his hands folded casually in his lap. It felt so strange since Dean was already used to his brother’s hand on his knee during their rides, because Sam always needed to feel the closeness and Dean, even though he never acknowledged it, needed it maybe more than his brother. Sometimes the hand slid higher, sending a clear message, and sometimes it stayed in the same place, but always there, always present, assuring Dean of his importance. Now it wasn’t in its usual place and Dean missed it sorely. It was like riding with a stranger.

He pulled the Impala to the side of the road and turned off the engine.

“You wanna ask something, don’t you?”

Sam wriggled a bit in his seat. “How did you get your car back?” he asked hesitantly.

“I didn’t,” Dean replied truthfully. “You got it back for me.”

“How?”

“Jody Mills helped you. You kept the details for yourself. It was supposed to be a surprise.”

Sam nodded, he was thinking again.

“It was your Christmas present for me,” Dean added, turning on the radio on a low volume. Sam didn’t seem to even register that. He was staring out from the window, aghast. Dean looked out at the green trees all around and he understood Sam’s shock. “It was the best Christmas in my life,” he said quietly, wanting to turn the radio louder, but Sam stopped him this time.

“We weren’t drinking yesterday,” he said, giving Dean a look talking that he had enough of crap his brother tried to feed him with. “What happened?”

Dean leaned back against the backrest, unable to look at Sam. “You were bitten by a werewolf,” he said tonelessly. “Not the type we encountered normally. This one was some werewolf mutant and…” He took a deep breath. “You were turning into a bloody monster in a shape of a wolf, Sammy…”

He gathered enough courage to look at Sam. His brother was staring back at him, his expression unreadable.

“When did it happen?” Sam asked in a low voice.

“More than a year ago,” Dean replied, looking away again. There was something in Sam’s eyes he couldn’t define, but it was getting to him nevertheless.

“How bad was it?”

“You were just a step from the final change.”

Silence settled between them once again, just the faint sound of their breathing was heard.

“How did you save me?” Sam asked after a few long minutes, and Dean recognized fear in his voice.

He glanced at Sam, seeing a plea in his eyes: ‘Please, just say you didn’t do anything foolish,’ he could read in them. 

“Not now, Sammy. We’ll talk about it when you remember more. We both need rest.” Dean started the engine, pulling the Impala back on the road.

They didn’t talk for the whole time until they got back home. Dean went right to bed – not because he was tired that much, but because he wanted to avoid Sam’s scrutinizing looks and possible questions. He didn’t feel like answering them right now.

He lay down, reaching for a comforter (it was Sam’s as he realized, but the bitch didn’t remember it anyway, so it didn’t matter).

“We used to share the bed, didn’t we?” sounded out of the blue, making Dean stiffen, and he looked at Sam standing in the midst of the room and watching his big brother.

“Er… yes,” Dean said hesitantly, not knowing what to expect.

“Okay,” Sam said quietly, giving no sign of what the answer meant to him, but when he looked around the place, Dean didn’t need to ask about his intention. Sam was about to start searching for his lost memories.

*

He decided to start with his own things. His clothes – shirts he didn’t know, pants that didn’t look familiar, T-shirts that looked more like Dean’s – were all washed and folded on a neat pile. He found his watch he wasn’t used to take off very often, but this time it looked like he didn’t have it on for quite some time as it was forgotten under a pile of other things. His note books, fake badges, small little things he owned – all of that lay in one of the corners together with his clothes. Just his duffel was nowhere to be seen.

And there were a couple of books: a few old books, but mostly new ones. On the top of the pile were Grimms’ Fairy Tales. The book was new, and yet it looked like it had been read many times. He took it in his hands and he knew this book had a deeper meaning than its cover betrayed. He glanced at Dean; green eyes were fixed on him with expectation. This book was a lead.

Sam opened the book and there, on the front page, was written in Dean’s handwriting ‘This book belongs to Sam Winchester, who is a princess in fact and not a big bad wolf’. Sam chuckled. The words sounded so Dean and still he wondered how much they must have meant to him if he – in fact – _was_ a big bad wolf. He glanced at his brother again. Dean turned away quickly as though he was trying to hide some emotion he didn’t want Sam to see. Sam knew him too well. This book had a special meaning – special even for Dean Winchester, who barely knew the stories.

Sam flipped through a few pages, finding the fairy tale about Snow White. There were a few notes, mostly his but Dean’s as well. The very first one right under the headline read ‘the porn version by Dean Winchester’.

Sam laughed. A memory of the two of them sprawled on the bed, reading the book and having a good time popped up in his mind. It was a dear memory and he didn’t understand how he could forget such a thing: they both laughing, Dean making the fairy tale sound dirty and Sam writing down his comments. They were closer to each other than any time before of which Sam had clear memories, and he still knew the memory was real and not a fake thing produced by a djinn.

He came up to the bed and sat down, poking Dean in the ribs. “Hey, jerk, I want you to read this for me,” he said in a cheerful tone.

Dean turned back to him, glaring. “For calling me jerk, you can do you know what with the book,” he grunted, turning away again.

“You’re the one who calls me bitch constantly,” Sam replied. “Or a girl. Or a princess.”

Dean growled into the pillow. “Give it here.” He snatched the book out from Sam’s hands and flopped through the pages. “Which one?”

“Snow White. The porn version, please,” Sam said with a grin.

Dean gave him a suspicious look, but then he started reading slowly, each line that obviously didn’t belong into the original story bringing the memory of a cozy room with crackling fire in the fireplace, the two of them sprawled on the bed, Sam reading and Dean leaning against his chest listening and commenting every now and then. Then the both of them laughing like idiots. And he remembered hands touching him gently, heat of the other body pressed to him and wanting him bad, kisses…

Sam gaped at his brother in disbelief. This _couldn’t_ be his memory, could it?

Dean looked up from the book, noticing Sam’s stare. “What’s up?”

Sam shook his head. “Nothing. I… I’m just bored.” He stood up, crossing the room, walking to the door. “I guess I’ll use some air.” With that he got out.

What the hell was that? What was that for a memory? Was that a memory of his daydream, of some fantasy? But there were those notes, he could remember Dean talking nonsense, turning every single fairy tale into something dirty but funny. And Sam remembered how he loved those moments. He remembered how he loved what usually followed after them… but no, that part couldn’t be true! What was his fantasy and what was reality?

He walked slowly into the depth of the forest, not really thinking where he was going and why when a new memory attacked him literally, a memory of dark shadows and pitch black nights, of different smells and cruel desires…

Sam leaned against a tree, looking around like a scared animal. What was going on here? Dean said he had turned into a werewolf. Was it one of the werewolf’s memories?

He took a deep breath, paying attention to his own footsteps. Contrary to his confused mind, it seemed his body remembered everything. He took a step after step, finding the paths of wild animals, paths he walked months ago himself, he recognized each tree, each stone, each broken branch… and it felt weird but not unfamiliar… He walked further, forgetting the time…

*

When he returned, it was dark outside and Dean was snoring quietly. Sam found a comforter – and yeah, he knew that this one belonged to Dean and Dean had his – and he lay down on the bed, careful not to wake his brother up and trying to keep as much distance as possible. There were still too many things whirling in his head and he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep any time soon, but suddenly, when he opened his eyes again, the rays of the morning sun were penetrating inside and he found himself cuddled up to his big brother and Dean, still sleeping, had an arm wrapped around Sam’s shoulders as though he wanted to protect him, and his face was so close that Sam could count all the freckles if he wanted to.

This was weird… but Sam still could swear that this was a normal situation. Still, it scared him, something was fishy… Dean would NEVER have held him like this all the night long, would NEVER have SLEPT with his brother like this and surely would NEVER have let Sam cuddle up to him like an overgrown fifteen-year-old chick to her first boyfriend. Such things simply didn’t happen in their world. They happened only in Sam’s most insane fantasies.

He pulled away cautiously, he didn’t want to wake his brother up and face an awkward situation, but it was Dean who groaned disapprovingly from his dream and reached for Sam. When he didn’t find him, he frowned and Sam could see how his eyelids were slowly lifting…

“Sleep, Dean. I’m just thirsty.”

Dean sighed into the pillow, his eyes closed before they even had a chance to focus on the world around, and Dean fell asleep again.

Sam didn’t know what to make out from this. Dean was acting weird in any sense of the word. He was upset most of the time and defensive and it was obvious that something was troubling him what he didn’t want to talk about and rather kept it hidden deep within himself. Sam could guess that his lost memories that were returning slowly were to blame They were so confusing and seemed so unreal that Sam started doubting either his sanity or the reality of all of this. There were scary memories, full of darkness and blood, and then there were memories of happiness and love… Dammit! He remembered kisses – shy kisses talking about the fear not to be reciprocated; and hot kisses, greedy, passionate, full of desire; and tender kisses, loving, cherishing, and promising eternity.

Sam went through the cupboards and the fridge, not really knowing why because he wasn’t hungry, but maybe he hoped deep inside that he would find anything telling him what the hell he was involved in.

The fridge was empty, and there were just a few things in the cupboards, so Sam thought that probably he should go to buy breakfast. He kind of knew there was a town nearby.

There was another car outside, parked beside the Impala, and it was obviously stolen, but Sam didn’t care and took it rather than his brother’s car.

Some people in the town recognized him, asking him whether he was better and how his boyfriend was doing. Boyfriend! He hoped his confusion wasn’t too visible, he was a professional liar after all, so he forced himself into a smile, saying he was all right and his boyfriend too, that he just wanted to buy something to eat and hurry back home to him…

As he was driving back to the cottage, he was thinking about asking Dean what this was all about, asking him to reveal all the secrets, to tell Sam everything. Because as confused as his returning memories made him, he wasn’t able to go on and pretend everything was all right.

He parked the car and took the bag full of food from the passenger’s seat, already looking forward to morning coffee, when someone grabbed his collar and slammed him against the car.

“Where the HELL have you BEEN???” It was Dean, as furious as a bull, looking daggers at Sam, pushing him against the car. “Do you have any freaking idea how worried I was?”

Sam gave him a puzzled look. Such an outburst was something new to him even according to his newly regained memories. “I went to buy something for breakfast,” he said.

Dean blinked, glancing at the bag that had fallen out from Sam’s hands, a burger wrapped in a paper was lying on the grass with a package of instant coffee next to it. He let go of his brother, stepping away, a pinkish shade coloring his cheeks. “Sorry, I overreacted…”

“You did,” Sam said in a calm tone, bending for the purchase.

“You know, Sam,” he heard Dean’s uncertain voice, “you… you disappeared so many times before without saying a word…”

Sam looked at his brother. Dean was biting his lower lip – something that was uncommon for him – looking away, blushing, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. His hair was sticking into every direction, a sign that he got up just a while ago.

“Relax, I’m not running away any time soon,” Sam said, handing Dean the burger. “Eat your breakfast and I’ll make coffee meanwhile.”

*

Sam walked into the cottage, Dean following him silently, feeling embarrassed. But call him crazy and stupid or whatever you want, but when he had found the cottage empty without any trace of Sam and the old junk gone, it reminded him of all those times when he got home from work, finding the cottage abandoned, or woke up in the morning, finding out Sam still hadn’t returned from his night errands, and he got scared he had lost his brother again, that Sam had left without saying a word, that he probably got cold feet when he remembered their relationship… And then, when he heard the old engine roaring outside and saw the bitch coming back, he wasn’t able to think straight. He felt relief, but was also angry with Sam for having left just like that without letting his bother know where he was going and why…

He sat down at the table and ate his burger in complete silence while Sam was preparing the coffee. Dean watched him, watched his every move, noticing that everything about his little brother was normal and human… and absolutely Sam-like.

Sam stood a cup of steaming coffee in front of him before he brought his own breakfast – some shitty salad and bread – and Dean couldn’t stop staring. Salad. Just like the human Sam liked. Exactly what the werewolf Sam would have creased his nose at with disgust.

“What?” Sam asked, and only then Dean realized that he was actually gazing at his brother like some retard.

“Nothing,” he said, trying to ignore the awkwardness of the whole situation, and he reached for the coffee, sipping from it. It was delicious, made precisely the way he liked it. “The coffee is good,” he said appreciatively, earning a suspicious look from Sam.

“Er… I’m glad you like it,” his brother said slowly, and now he was staring at Dean in return.

“What?”

“May I try something?” Sam asked, making Dean look directly at him.

“Try what?”

“Something from my memory.”

It was Dean’s turn to give Sam a suspicious look. “What?”

“You’ll see. May I?”

Dean put the unfinished burger on the table. “Okay,” he said, unsure. This human Sam, though he knew him all his life, was suddenly a mystery to him. And as much as he trusted Sam’s werewolf self, he was suspicious about this one.

Sam leaned close to him, looking deep into his brother’s eyes as though he was trying to read all Dean’s secrets out from their depth. Dean didn’t try to pull away; he was staring back, trying to calm his heart which was beating like mad and so loud that he thought Sam could hear it, too.

Sam leaned even closer and the soft, hesitant brush of his lips made Dean’s breath hitch in his lungs. He wanted to shove Sam away and ask him what the hell was he doing and why… but wasn’t this what he was hoping for the whole time since Sam had been healed? He closed his eyes and opened his mouth a bit and as he wanted to return the kiss and maybe deepen it even, Sam’s mouth was suddenly gone and his brother was staring back at Dean with widened eyes, his expression puzzled and frightened.

_What have I done? Why did I allow this to happen?_

“I… remembered we did this a lot before… didn’t we?” Sam spoke first, demanding a confirmation.

Dean swallowed. “Yes,” he said, his throat dry.

Sam took a deep breath. “Give me some time. Give me some time to remember everything.” It was a plea, and how much did Dean hate it when Sam pleaded like this, pulling his puppy dog face? He didn’t reply and rather reached for his cup of coffee, avoiding Sam’s look.

He sipped from the hot coffee. “I don’t expect anything from you if that’s what you’re afraid of,” he muttered as he put the coffee down and stood up from the table.

“Where are you going?” Sam asked, big dog eyes fixed on Dean, who tried hard to ignore them.

“The car,” he said and left his brother alone in the cottage.

*

Sam ate his salad absent-mindedly. He had really expected Dean to push him away. He needed a proof that this kind of memories was just made up by his fucked-up mind, but Dean… He let his perverted brother to kiss him, holy crap! He was even about to _return_ the kiss! If this weren’t some alternate universe, what the hell happened between the two of them? How did they get here?

He pushed his breakfast away, not hungry anymore. It was time to dig in his memories some more.

*

He used to cook. Or Dean did. As he was standing by the oven, waiting for meat to roast, he remembered meals that were like little rituals, pulling them closer and making this place feel even more homely.

What Sam was doing here now alone had nothing of that feeling in it. This was something different. His brother was distant and anxious and he spent the whole morning in his car. Sam played with the thought to go to him a few times, but always coming to the result it was better to leave Dean alone for the time being.

He searched the whole cottage for his recent past, finding a box of condoms and a half-empty bottle of lube. Jesus Christ! Shouldn’t they be in the car instead of the bathroom? Or in Dean’s duffel. Or wherever Dean could use them whenever he needed. Sam was afraid to even allow the thought of the true reason why they were here to cross his mind.

He finished cooking, loading two plates with food. It was probably time to visit Dean in the Impala and now he had a good reason for that. He stuck two forks into the pocket of his shirt and walked out from the cottage, walking right to the Impala. Dean saw him, Dean watched him, and when Sam reached the door on the driver’s side, he pulled the window down and let Sam hand him one of the plates and a fork.

“You cooked.”

“Yeah, I was hungry.”

A shadow flew over Dean’s face and the look of his eyes became unfocused for a moment.

Sam walked to the other side of the car and got in.

“We used to cook quite often,” he said as he stabbed a bit of roast beef with his own fork.

“Yeah…” Dean said quietly, eating slowly.

“I used to eat a lot.”

A small smile curled Dean’s lips, but it was gone soon. “You were almost constantly hungry. It was hard to feed you.”

Sam nodded, putting a potato into his mouth. Dean watched him. 

“You used to hate everything except meat. You were able to eat tons of it.” There was a trace of gentleness in Dean’s voice as though he was just sharing some precious memory. Did Dean miss the werewolf Sam? Why would he, anyway?

“I think that’s understandable,” Sam replied, trying to read in Dean’s face. The marks of exhaustion were still visible. Was that the reason why they hadn’t hit the road so far and stayed here instead? There were still so many questions… “Tell me something I don’t remember. Tell me about Grimms’ Fairy Tales.”

Dean frowned a bit, giving Sam a scrutinizing look. “You came here to talk about the fairy tales?” he asked incredulously.

“They meant something, didn’t they?”

Dean inhaled, looking away. “You bloody freaked out when you made me read them for you.” He looked back at Sam. “You remembered something.”

Sam fidgeted in the seat. “I remembered kissing…”

Dean breathed out. “I thought so…”

Sam looked out from the window nervously before he spoke again, still avoiding Dean’s eye:

“I found condoms,” he muttered.

Dean was quiet for a while before he asked in a slightly amused tone:

“You searched the bathroom?”

“Yeah.”

“Bitch.”

“Dean…” Sam wanted to ask his brother so many things, but he didn’t have enough courage.

Dean reached into the glove compartment, taking out a cell phone and handing it to Sam.

“Yours. Maybe you’ll find something useful in it.”

Sam glanced at the phone. “It’s not mine. I got rid of mine…” _when I ran away_ , he wanted to say, but wasn’t able to pronounce the last part of the sentence. There was a strong memory of Dean’s anger when he finally found his little brother. It was better not to provoke the lion…

“You needed a new one. Take it,” Dean insisted, so Sam took the phone.

Dean handed him the plate with unfinished meal. “I’m done. And… if you don’t mind, I need some privacy.”

Sam gave Dean a searching look. His brother’s eyes were begging for understanding and telling Sam just to get the fuck out from the car and leave his big bro alone.

He gave a slight nod and took the plate, getting out and returning back into the cottage. Barely did he close the door behind himself when he heard the roar of engine and only when the noise faded away in the distance, he pulled out the phone.

*

There were just two names in the contact list: Dean’s and Jody Mills’. He probably didn’t even need more… The number of received text messages wasn’t very high, and each was from Dean. Sam read them, though there weren’t many and usually said just something like _Right on my way home_ or _Be back soon_ or _What do you want for dinner?_ , so there really wasn’t much of a lead to whatever the relationship between the two of them had been like. He opened the file with sent messages, but it was empty. He obviously never set the function for saving the messages. Crap! How was he supposed to know something about himself? He didn’t think Dean would let him have a look at the messages in his own phone.

When he tried his voicemail, he found just one message (a whole year old!) from Dean asking him where the hell he had been and that he was to call his brother as soon as possible. Not very eloquent either.

There was one more thing he could try – call Jody and ask her. He dialed her number and waited for her to pick up.

“Sam?” her surprised voice sounded in the phone. “Did something happen?”

“No, not at all,” Sam said quickly. “Just wanted to ask how you were doing.”

“Shouldn’t it be me asking you? Still eating that enormous amount of meat and howling at nights?”

Sam hesitated. Hm… so Jody knew.

“No, not anymore,” he said slowly. “I’m okay again.”

“Wow, that’s great, Sam! I’m really glad to hear that,” Jody said, and there was a great amount of relief in her voice. “It was really hard to deal with your bitchy moods. Good thing Dean knew how to pacify you.”

“Well… yeah… he always knows what to do.”

“Some things never change as I can hear,” sounded Jody’s amused voice. “How’s your hero doing?”

Huh? Hero? Did she hint on Sam’s magical change back to human? The thing Sam dreaded to ask and he hoped to remember it alone?

“He… he’s out. He took the Impala for a ride.”

“I see,” Jody said with a soft laugh. “He must have been all beside himself when you got her back.”

Sam thought that, too. “Yes… he was.”

“Why do you call me, anyway? Do you need something?” she asked abruptly.

“No, not really. Just wanted to tell you that I’m okay again,” he lied.

“That’s nice of you, thanks. If you don’t mind, I need to go back to work.”

“Yes, sure. Sorry.”

“Be careful you two and don’t cause any trouble. Remember you’re still one foot in jail.”

Sam laughed. “We remember that, don’t worry. Have a nice day.”

“Yeah, you too,” she said and hung up.

Sam sighed. Nothing again. Nothing that would have told him who he had become and how deep he was hurting Dean now. Because that one thing was obvious, Sam was causing his brother pain.

*

Dean stepped into the bar, recognizing a few faces from the time he worked in this town and he felt a bit lighter. He was immediately pulled into a circle of his former colleagues who finished their shift for today and stopped by to have a few drinks before they went home. Dean allowed them to buy him a drink and endured their curious questions about him and Sam, what really had happened when he quit the job and whether Sam was all right or he eventually didn’t make it. Dean came up with a story about having taken Sam to some top clinic where he had been cured. It wasn’t such a bullish, in its core the story was true, and so it didn’t even feel like lying.

The good mood of the guys was contagious and the drinks helped too, so after some time Dean was laughing with them at their jokes and funny stories. It was great not to think about his misery for a while, about Sam, who didn’t remember a shit of what they had become, about the uncertainty whenever he saw Sam searching through the house in an attempt to find out something about their past. And he was already fed up of his questions that weren’t important, or their importance was bound to something Sam had no idea about so far.

So when an offer came to return back to work, he didn’t think twice and accepted it. The boss obviously forgave him their not very friendly parting and wanted him back in case Dean was interested.

Dean returned home in a better mood. He saw a chance. Maybe the old daily routine would finally help Sam to catch the important parts of their lives, would awaken expectations and curiosity within him and Dean would show him what all that meant, what things were supposed to be like and what was important and what was not. He would tell him stories about a boy imprisoned in the body of a big bad wolf from the very beginning to the end and he would see about making the end happy.

*

Sam was sitting at the table with their laptop in front of him and going through the history of the internet browser, finding a few possible cases from a few months ago, when he heard the purr of the Impala and in a little while Dean burst in.

“I have an idea how to help you to regain your memories,” he blurted excitedly, walking swiftly to the table, and shut the laptop with such haste that Sam barely had the time to pull his hands away.

“What the hell, dude?” Sam glared at his brother, whose eyes were gleaming like Christmas decorations.

“You’re not doing this right,” Dean said quickly. “The way you’re searching for your memories just makes you confused. I found a better way.”

“Aha. Will you share your gorgeous plan with me?” Sam asked, a hint of mockery in his voice.

“Haha, smartass. You’ll thank me one day.”

“Okay, didn’t mean to offend you. Just spit it out finally.”

Dean grinned and it was a big change to the broody mood he had been in for the last two days. His tiredness was almost invisible now, though the dark circles under his eyes were still there. Sam would have said Dean needed a proper rest and not some shitty plans, but this surely wasn’t the time to say that out loud.  

“We’ll do the things the same way we used to when you were a werewolf,” Dean said, a big smile brightening his face.

Actually, it didn’t sound stupid. Actually, it made sense.

“Okay,” Sam said, waiting for his brother to continue.

“We’ll go back to the old daily routine. I’m going to work tomorrow, I was taken back, and you’ll stay here and…”

Sam raised a hand to stop Dean’s flow of words. “Hold a sec. What work?”

“I worked as a mechanic in the local service department while we were living here,” Dean said, breathless. “They’ve taken me back today, I’m starting tomorrow. You used to…”

“Wait!” Sam stopped him again. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Dean gave Sam a puzzled look. “What the hell do you mean?”

“Have you looked into the mirror lately? You look like you’re gonna drop dead with exhaustion any second and you wanna _go back to work_? Apropos, your work… I’ve noticed we spent quite some time here – I found the paper Christmas chains, which were… interesting. Anyway, the point is that I understand we had to get the money for living somehow. But actual work? Dude, did we settle down?”

In the next second Sam regretted that he said something. The excitement disappeared from Dean’s face and was exchanged by the sadly well-known gloominess. _No, not this again…_

“We did,” Dean said shortly, turning away from his little brother.

Sam sighed. “What is the rest of the plan?” he said more calmly.

“Does it matter?” Dean muttered, getting on the couch (edit: bed), still not looking at Sam.

“I guess,” Sam replied, standing up from the table and coming up to the couch (bed!). “Come on, tell me.”

Dean glanced at Sam, who he sat down next to his big brother and fixed his eyes on him. “What if I drop dead?” he said sulkily.

Sam rolled his eyes, flailing his hands. “Keep it to yourself, then. But don’t run into your car when I start asking questions again.” The furious look he got would make even a demon crawl under a bed and not to come out while the flames in Dean’s eyes were still blazing.

“That’s because you shithead don’t ask about the important things. Why the hell do you ask about stupid old package of condoms when they don’t matter at all!?”

“Then what does?” Sam asked, keeping his voice down. If they started yelling at each other, they wouldn’t solve anything.

Dean glared and growled. _Growled!_

Sam’s heart skipped a beat. “Did I bite you?” he asked, breathless.

For a moment confusion overshadowed Dean’s anger just to let it burst in a new and stronger wave. “No!” he yelled. “But you wanted, and I would’ve let you, you son of a bitch! That’s what you did! That’s why I can’t cope with this freaking, stupid situation! You’ll remember everything, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t, but who are you? Who _the fuck_ ARE YOU!?”

Dean took a deep breath. He looked like he was close to a nervous breakdown.

“Dean, calm down,” Sam said, reaching for his brother, but Dean pushed his hand away.

“Leave me alone! Just… leave me alone,” he said, wrapping himself into a comforter, facing away from Sam.

Sam sighed and stood up. It was better to keep his distance now. He returned back to the computer and went to sleep only late at night. Dean was apparently still awake, because as Sam crawled under his own comforter, he shifted as far away from his little bro as the bed allowed him. It kind of hurt Sam, but he didn’t say anything and tried to get some sleep.

*

“Sam… Sam, wake up,” soft voice penetrated his dream and made him open his eyes to the light of the early morning sun. He lay sprawled over Dean’s chest and his brother was tapping his arm lightly in an attempt to wake him up in a gentle way. He could simply push Sam away, but he didn’t do it.

Sam winced and rolled off immediately. “I’m sorry!”

“That’s okay, don’t panic,” Dean said in a low voice and got out of bed. He took clean clothes with him and went to the bathroom to change.

It took Sam a few seconds to remember Dean was going to work and that was why he got up so early. He crawled from the bed himself and crossed the room to the kitchenette. He could do at least something for his brother before he left.

Dean looked kind of surprised to find Sam making him coffee. “You didn’t need to get up to do that.”

“I wanted to,” Sam said, handing Dean his coffee. Dean took it gratefully, sipping from it with delight. “Breakfast?”

“I’m not sure I have enough time…”

“You should eat something before you go,” Sam said, taking the bread he bought the day before and made Dean a sandwich. Wordless, Dean sat down at the table, enjoying his coffee and waiting for Sam to put a plate with the breakfast in front of him.

Sam sat down, too. “What am I supposed to do while you’re at work?”

Dean looked up from his plate. “Um… you used to send me a text message every morning. It was just some crap telling me what you were doing, that you were lonely, bored, etcetera…” He shrugged. “At least I knew you were all right.” Dean tried to pretend it wasn’t such a big deal, but it apparently was. Sam made a mental note not to forget to text him later.

Dean coughed and continued:

“I would call you during lunch breaks,” he said.

Sam nodded and smiled. “Okay, I’ll wait for your call.”

Dean glanced at him and a small smile curled his lips for a split second. He finished the sandwich in silence, drank his coffee and stood up. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yes, see you.”

Dean walked to the door, but stopped in the doorway as though he just remembered something and turned back to Sam. “Don’t try to look for a job, okay? I’ll earn enough for both of us. Just stay here and rest. Read books, go out for a walk or do whatever you want, just… be here when I return in the evening, okay?”

Sam nodded. “Understood.”

“Good,” Dean said and walked out. In a few minutes Sam could hear the roar of the old junk that stood next to Dean’s beloved Impala.

*

While alone and waiting for his brother to return, Sam decided to read the Grimms’ Fairy Tales. The book was obviously important for both of them and Sam hoped it would help him to figure out who he had been and who Dean wanted him to be again.

He started with Snow White, laughing as he was reading the notes of its porn version. Flashbacks of the time when Dean was spoiling almost each sentence, rewriting it into something dirty, were popping up in his mind. There were also the ones about making out on the couch after the moment Prince finally kissed Snow White and she woke up from her sleep.

 _Maybe I need such a kiss…_ Sam thought, reaching for his phone.

*

When Dean’s phone beeped, he really didn’t expect anything creative, just something like ‘How’re you doin’?’ or ‘What’s the first day back at work like?’ or something of the similar kind, but Sam managed to surprise him once again.

_Dude, u screwed up my childhood! Ill never be able 2 think of SW as a pure virgin._

_B_ _itch, that’s your own fault for reading it with me,_ Dean thought with satisfaction as he put the phone back into the pocket of his pants.

After about an hour a new message came: _I know u said A message… but since when am I Cinderella?_

Dean had to laugh this time. _Since you were born,_ he typed quickly and got back to work before someone could start bitching.

He didn’t know how Sam managed that, but when he woke up in the morning, he thought the day would be as near to a disaster as the day before. Sam’s sorry after he finally got his live weight off of his brother was heavier than Sam himself, but the breakfast and the fresh coffee totally made it up to him. The text messages brought smile to his lips and the fear of the call he wanted to make during the lunch break finally disappeared. He even looked forward to calling Sam. 

“Hey, how you’re doing?” he said when Sam picked up.

“Am bored,” Sam said in his familiar bitchy way.

“Not reading the fairy tales anymore?”

“I’m not sure I would call them fairy tales in your versions…”

Dean snickered. “My versions are awesome.”

“Dude, you can be such a big-headed idiot sometimes,” Sam said, but there was no trace of annoyance in his voice.

Dean grinned for himself. “That’s why you l-” he stopped. What he wanted to say wasn’t true anymore.

“I’m not sure your cockiness is the true reason,” Sam said, his voice sounding heavier than it should have. “When do you come home?” he changed the topic, and Dean was grateful for that.

“I don’t know. In three, four hours? I’ll stop by in the grocery store. We’re almost out of food.”

“Grocery store…” Sam repeated doubtfully.

“Yeah,” Dean said, and a growl sounded in his undertone. “No burgers. We’ll cook as we used to.”

“Okay.”

There was an awkward silence for a few seconds.

“So… how’s the work going?” Sam said in the end.

“Quite good. I didn’t part with the boss in a friendly way, but I’m the best mechanic here, so he keeps his mouth shut. And I do my job the best I can, so he has no reason to be mean.”

“Oh… So he doesn’t give you a hard time. I’m glad.”

Dean held the phone firmer, imagining his brother creasing his forehead by the thought that crossed his mind. He was sure that Sam just figured why Dean had left the work and that there was nothing that could stop him, especially not his boss.

“We’ll talk about it later, Sammy. Now I have to go,” he said, not caring that it was a lie because the lunch break wasn’t over yet, so if he wanted to talk to Sam longer, he had enough time for that.  He only didn’t want the call to turn into something awkward and they seemed to be heading that road already.

“Yeah, fine. See you,” Sam’s soft reply sounded in his ear.

Dean disconnected the call. He still allowed himself to hope that the evening would turn out just fine. He knew he wasn’t making it easy for Sam, but he was trying to open himself to his brother one more time little by little. He was afraid of being hurt again. If he broke down now, he wouldn’t be able to stand up ever again.

*

He barely stepped into the cottage and Sam was there to help Dean with the purchase. It was nothing like the hearty welcome he remembered from the times Before, but Sam was trying hard to make this evening as pleasant as possible. He asked Dean about his day and Dean recapitulated it for him briefly before Sam started cooking dinner: roast beef with vegetable salad which Dean had no interest in but Sam enjoyed as he used to a long time ago.

The evening lacked the atmosphere of the old times, even though everything went according to the familiar scenario. They ate and talked only a little. Dean was curious about Sam’s day, but there was not much for Sam to tell, or he just didn’t want to, and Dean was afraid to ask about the fairy tales in case he heard something he didn’t want to.

“Do you remember the hunt when you got bitten?” he asked after the dinner.

Sam inhaled. “Yeah, most of it. You missed the shot… or I thought you did.”

“Yeah…” Dean said, watching Sam washing dishes. “I told you I wasn’t such a bad shooter even in the dark.”

Sam just smiled.

“I thought we were after a bloodthirsty monster…” Dean said.

“We were.”

“No, the guy was just… He was just a normal guy who had a damn bad luck. I thought murder was in his blood, but it wasn’t. It just got there with the bite.”

“Just like in my case,” Sam said quietly.

Dean looked at his brother tidying up the kitchenette. “What do you remember?” he asked cautiously.

Sam shrugged. “Blood.”

“Sam, talk to me,” Dean half-pleaded and half-commanded.

Sam sighed and finally sat down at the table next to Dean. “I remember how I killed him. It was like a dream I forgot long ago, but now it came back to me. I remember my anger and longing for revenge. Was he worse than me that he had to die and I was saved?”

Dean looked into those hazel eyes always asking him the same question ever since he had made the deal with the crossroads demon: _How am I better than them that you never let me down, but there’s no one to do the same for them?_

“Sammy,” he addressed his little brother (who was far from little actually) in a gentle tone, reaching out and squeezing his wrist. Before he would have slipped his hand into Sam’s, he would have let him know that it wasn’t about being better or not, but about being loved and missed, about the strength given and received. About the bond. About everything that made them two parts of one being. But he didn’t say anything of that, didn’t take Sam’s hand as he desired. He only asked:

“Would you go to Hell for me ever again?”

Sam’s eyes widened for a moment, the memory of the hellfire blazing in them. Sam fisted his hands and his face hardened with infinite determination. His eyes never left Dean’s and Dean was staring back into their depth, seeing everything he wanted to know in them. He smiled. “The same here.”

Sam nodded and his features softened again, but there was a new question in his eyes.

“Not now, Sam. Everything has its time,” Dean said, standing up from the table and moving on the couch.

*

They spent the evening talking about Sam’s escape after he had been bitten and Dean’s searching for him. Sam didn’t remember it completely, but many details fitted into the bigger puzzle of confused memories and if that was Dean’s plan, it worked. Sam remembered that helpless desperation and fear to hurt someone, to hurt Dean specifically. Dean told Sam his part of the story, how he was searching for him, looking for any predictor telling him where Sam might have been or might have been heading to, and when he showed Sam the silver chain with the pendant in the shape of the letter D, new memories of fear and pain came back to him.

He was reluctant to touch the chain as if it could hurt him even now. Dean watched him with expectation and maybe he hoped for some specific reaction, but when Sam put the chain on the table, giving it mistrustful looks, the light was gone from Dean’s eyes and he went to sleep. Sam followed his example shortly after he heard Dean’s soft snorts, giving the chain one last and knowing look before he occupied the other side of the bed, turning his back to his brother.

He saw monsters chasing him and wanting to rip him into shreds: werewolves, wendigos, wraiths, rougarous, skinwalkers and shifters of any kind, ghouls, and vampires led by Gordon Walker. They got him, tore his soul into tiny pieces, each of them wanted a part of him. He felt pain greater than any he could remember, he was screaming, begging for mercy, calling his brother…

And suddenly a commanding voice penetrated through all the shouting and his own screams: “Wake up, Sam!”

He opened the eyes, and there was silence everywhere around, he could hear only the rush of blood in his ears and a gentle voice sounding from the dark, saying “It’s all right, Sammy, it was just a bad dream”. Strong arms wrapped around him protectively, locking him in an embrace, and finally Sam felt safe and whole again, slowly forgetting the pain.

His body remembered something important from the past that was still hidden from his consciousness under the veil of oblivion, and he buried his nose in the crook of the neck of his protector, breathing deep the faint scent and finally calming down.

“It’s okay, you’re safe with me,” the quiet voice sounded again, and Sam trusted it more than he trusted himself in anything.

“Dean…” he breathed out, feeling the power of the name – it meant home and safety, meant everything that shaped Sam into who he was. He took another deep breath and relaxed.

A hand ran through his hair, and it was like an encouragement to cuddle up to the firm body of his brother and to forget for a while why this wasn’t a good idea. He needed Dean this close tonight, damn the consequences, although he already knew how painful they would be.

He was woken up by Dean trying to leave the bed unnoticed, but he failed. Sam pulled away from him, letting him know that he was awake and that Dean could move around the cottage without trying to be silent.

While Dean was in the bathroom, Sam got up to make him his morning coffee at least, and maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to drink some, too, and not to return to bed while the memories of his dream were still too vivid.

“Go back to bed,” Dean told him barely did he step out from the bathroom, but Sam shook his head, sipping from his own coffee.

“I can’t.”

“How are you?” Dean asked as he sat down, reaching for the cup Sam stood in front of him.

“To be honest, I don’t know myself,” Sam replied with a half-hearted smile. “I’m just happy to be awake.”

Dean gave a slight nod of understanding, but he stayed quiet. They drank the coffee in silence and only when Dean stood up from the table to leave for work, Sam said:

“Thanks for the night. I…” he looked at Dean, who waited for the rest of the sentence. “Thank you,” Sam repeated, knowing it wasn’t what his brother hoped to hear.

“There’s nothing to mention,” Dean replied, his voice sounding strangely flat, and with that he left.

Sam sighed over the cup of his unfinished coffee, thinking about the night.

*

Sam’s message came shortly before the lunch break that day and it was just something stupid like _Have a nice day_. Apparently, Sam ran out of his originality with words. More surprising was the fact that he didn’t pick up when Dean tried to call him back during the break, and after more than an hour of the afternoon shift a message came: _Sorry, was out._

Dean’s mood didn’t improve even in the evening when he found Sam doing something on the computer again, but when he stepped in, Sam shut it quickly, an innocent smile curling his lips.

They had pizza for diner, which meant Sam must have gone to town to get it (the bitch had taken the Impala without permission! Dean still drove to work the old car and used his baby for other trips).

“Where did you go today?” Dean asked as he was slowly eating his pizza.

“Into the forest at first, then I went to town to buy some groceries.”

Dean nodded. “Any new memories in the forest?”

“Yeah, kinda… Grizzlies and wolves and stuff…”

Dean gave Sam a scrutinizing look. “Wolves, yeah?”

Sam nodded. “I remembered the attack if that’s what you ask.”

Dean didn’t reply and went for a beer to the fridge. He took out two bottles, giving one to Sam.

Sam was rather silent and thoughtful that evening and he went to sleep early. Dean, curious what his brother had been doing on the computer, checked the thing, finding a web page of the town open and that was all. He checked even the history, but Sam wasn’t interested in anything extraordinary, not even supernatural stuff (which, as for them, was ordinary). There were really just general things about the town, and not even its history interested Sam, which was a bit odd.

Dean went to sleep with a funny feeling something was going on and he couldn’t figure what. By the time he got to bed Sam was already sleeping peacefully, his face turned to his brother. Dean suppressed the urge to reach out and remove the strands of long hair from Sam’s face, and he turned away from his brother as he was used to lately. How long would it take Sam to remember everything? To remember them? Dean missed him. It was strange having Sam so close and still feeling like oceans separated them.

Sam sighed into his pillow and Dean felt his long arm wrap around him. He didn’t move. In his sleep, Sam still used to snuggle up to him as though his subconscious remembered their little romance. It was hard to resist… and Dean didn’t know whether he even wanted to. He turned to Sam and the head of the former werewolf rested on his chest immediately. Dean exhaled heavily and put his arm around his brother’s shoulders. He could at least have him like this…

*

A quiet moan in his ear woke Dean up. Sam was pressed close to him and in the weak daylight of the rising sun Dean could see his smile. His face was flushed and his hips were rocking slightly, rubbing his hard-on against Dean’s side.

Excellent! The bitch was lucky enough to have an erotic dream!

Dean sighed. This was the closest to sex with Sam as he could get…

Sam moaned again and shivered, burying his face in the crook of Dean’s neck. Dean rolled his eyes, but lay still; Sam’s hot breath was tickling his skin.

 _Who are you having fun with, Sammy?_ Dean really didn’t want to be jealous of a _dream_ , for Christ’s sake, that was stupid. But whoever brought that smile on Sam’s lips even in the dream was worth Dean’s loathing.

He tried to ignore Sam, ignore his hard-on sliding up and down against his body, and get some sleep until he would have to go to work. Or at least pretend he was sleeping in case Sam woke up and realized what he was doing. They didn’t need any more awkwardness now.

Sam’s breath hitched… and he moved finally, pulling away. Dean’s eyes were shut and he still didn’t move. He heard the rustle of sheets and then the sound of bare feet on the floor until they faded away behind the closed door of the bathroom. _Fuck, this could be pitifully embarrassing…_ Dean gave a sigh of relief, burying his face into the pillow, not giving any sign he was awake even when he heard Sam get out of the bathroom and move around the room. 

*

He gave it one more hour until he got up. Fresh coffee and breakfast were already waiting for him and damn, he liked this new habit! Sam was sipping his own coffee, sitting across the table and checking something on the internet again. Dean noticed that he was rather avoiding Dean’s eye and he felt a whiff of satisfaction. _Serves you right, bitch._     

“Did you sleep well?” he asked innocently, earning a startled glance from Sam, and the sudden pinkish shade in his brother’s cheeks didn’t escape his attention.

“Yes, of course. Why?” Sam said. Dean could notice the subsequent regret for the questioning part of his brother’s words.

“Just so. You were moaning in your sleep. I just wanted to be sure it wasn’t another bad dream,” he said, trying hard not to burst into laughter as he saw Sam’s face turning from pink to red.

“No, no nightmares tonight,” Sam said and coughed.

“That’s good. That’s really good,” Dean said with a smile, trying to look absolutely clueless.

“Yeah, it is,” Sam said from the computer, gazing at the screen.

“What was it then?” Dean didn’t stop. Oh, it was so great making fun of the bitch. Sam definitely deserved that.

Sam stiffened, glancing at Dean and then moving his attention back to the screen. “Nothing. I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

“Sure,” Dean said with a smirk, standing up from the table. “See you later, honey,” he said, laughing, and hurried out from the cottage. If Sam said something back, he didn’t hear it.

*

He didn’t get a text message the whole morning and his good mood went rapidly downhill. What the hell was Sam doing? Did he forget? Or… was he upset about the morning? Dean hadn’t been that bad, had he? He had just done what was usual for him. He always made fun of his brother and Sam never got angry. Why would it have been different this time?

He couldn’t wait the lunch break to call Sam and ask him what the hell was up, but when he did, Sam simply disconnected the call. _What the FUCK?_

“Hey, Dean! Your Romeo’s here,” one of his colleagues called as they were leaving the garage.

“Huh?” Dean looked at the guys, confused, then at his phone, and then at the exit from the garage where he could see the giant of his brother making his way in, smiling as he was passing by the workers and greeting them as though they were old friends. What the hell was this supposed to mean?

He came forward only a few steps, and Sam was already looking at him, already striding right to him, the smile never leaving his handsome face.

“What are you doing here, Sam?” Dean hissed when his brother finally reached him.

“What do you think? I’m taking you out for the lunch break,” Sam replied, sounding pretty self-confident.

“Stop talking to me in that tone,” Dean growled. “You were supposed to stay at home…”

“Alone and bored to death,” Sam cut Dean mid-sentence.

Dean glared. Hearing about death, especially from Sam, wasn’t nice at all, even though it was meant as a joke. Frowning, he cried “Yes!”, so that the bitch didn’t think he could do whatever he liked.

The reply was an eye roll. “Don’t be a fool, this is better. Let’s go, we don’t have much time.”

Sam grabbed Dean’s hand and led him out from the garage.

“Dude!”

“What?”

“You’re holding my hand!”

“And? Everybody here believes I’m your boyfriend, so where’s the problem?”

Dean shut up and endured the amused grins and whistles from his colleagues outside the garage. He walked obediently after Sam holding his hand firmly, trying not to imagine how it looked like (How did it look like? That they were in a romantic relationship, which was actually true? Or had been, concerning the development of the current situation). Even if he had tried to reason with Sam, he had a hunch that the bitch wouldn’t have listened to him anyway, so Dean simply gave up, heading to the door on the driver’s side of the Impala parked outside the yard of the service department.

“No, I’m driving,” Sam stopped him as Dean already reached for the handle.

“You brought her here. Without permission, by the way,” Dean retorted, but Sam still didn’t let him get in and he even _grinned_! Bitch…  

“That makes me the driver.” Sam walked past Dean, opening the door himself and getting behind the wheel. “Come on, move your ass,” he said when Dean stayed standing on the spot, glaring at him.

Dean growled under his breath. What the hell was Sam thinking he was doing? Nevertheless, he obeyed (again) and settled in the passenger’s seat. Sam smiled at him, starting the car. Dean didn’t smile back, making clear that he didn’t like those positions.

“Don’t be sulking,” Sam said, pulling the Impala on the road.

“I’m not sulking,” Dean said sulkily.

“Yes, you are,” Sam said with suppressed laughter.

 _Just start laughing and I’ll kill you next time you take my baby without asking,_ Dean thought venomously, looking out from the window. “Where are we going?” he asked after a few minutes of silence.

“I told you, lunch break. We’re gonna eat. There’s this café a bit further from your work, so no one would disturb us.”

 _Disturb?_ Dean raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say what he thought. Sam was being weird…

The café was small and cozy with sexy waitresses – exactly what Dean liked. Thanks to the big windows the place was bathing in the sunshine. Dean remembered he saw it on one of the websites he found in the history of the internet browser in their laptop and he definitely wasn’t the one who searched for this place. Did Sam prepare for this?

Sam chose the table near the counter from where Dean could watch the sexy asses by work (which was one of the reasons why he decided to ask later and just enjoy the view now) and Sam could order the lunch (a burger with French fries for Dean and some rabbit food with something probably edible for himself) quickly and comfortably (together with a big piece of pie!). Dean enjoyed this alternative for a sandwich or a burger from the diner he went to with his colleagues and a long call with Sam. Having Sam here and sitting by the table instead of somewhere on stairs into the department’s offices or leaning against the wall in the corner of the garage while eating and talking to Sam through the phone was definitely something he could get used to. In case it repeated. Which he didn’t know whether it would… Anyway, this was something different to the things they used to do, but Dean didn’t want to spoil the good time they were having finally. The break was short and questions like what all of this was supposed to mean could wait till the evening.

Sam allowed Dean to drive on their way back to the service department. Their parting was short (“This was great, man. See you later.” “I knew you’d like it. See you.”) and before Sam got in the driver’s seat, catcalls echoed from the yard where a few guys were watching them.

“What is that? No kiss? You call it a date?” They laughed and waved to Sam, who waved back.

Dean stared at them with widened eyes before he frowned. “It wasn’t a _date_ , assholes!”

Sam only chuckled and got into the car. “Have a nice day,” he said to Dean before he shut the door.

“Yeah, you too…” Dean said, watching the Impala moving away and disappear behind a corner.

“Your boyfriend got no balls,” someone said. “Doesn’t he know the rules of dating?”

Dean knew they were just trying to spite him. “It wasn’t a date,” he repeated, getting back to the garage with others.

“How would you call it?”

“A lunch break?”

“Say that to your grandma.”

Dean’s eyebrow twitched. “You really wanted to see us snogging like teenagers? Because that’s what always happens,” he said with a roguish grin. “Guys, you should see how passionate Sam can get! When he presses me against a wall and starts kissing… his tongue is EVERYWHERE, and when I say everywhere, I mean everywhere.” He grinned. “Yeah, even down there. And his hands…”

“Okay, that’s enough.”

Dean had to laugh when he saw the horrified faces. “See? It’s better we didn’t kiss at all,” he said, satisfied that he was the one who embarrassed them in spite of their effort to do the same to him. The only thing he regretted was that his words didn’t refer to present anymore. That was the reason why Sam taking him out for the lunch break was just that, Sam taking him out for the lunch break, and it couldn’t be called any other way. Definitely not a date.

*

When he got back home, the stench of something burned attacked his sense of smell.

“Crap!” he heard Sam curse barely he stepped in, and he saw his brother bending over something that was obviously supposed to be some kind of food – what kind, Dean couldn’t identify from the door. Sam didn’t notice him yet ( _would never have happened to his werewolf self…_ ), studying his work with utmost concentration. The laptop was resting on the table behind Sam’s back with some website open on the screen and Dean had a hunch it was something concerning cooking.

_Nooooo! That can’t be!_

Sam had just stuck a fork into the suspiciously looking mass in a metallic bowl or whatever it was when Dean decided to reveal his presence to him. “Hey, what are you doing?”

The fork flew out from Sam’s hand and he turned around abruptly; the tool landed on the floor with a loud clang.

“Dammit, Dean! Don’t scare me like that!” Sam cried and bent for the poor fork.

Dean chuckled. “And you call yourself a hunter? It could be a vamp sneaking up on you.”

“A vampire would avoid this area because of the smell.”

“What if it were a wendigo?”

“A wendigo would run away even faster. If you didn’t notice, I’ve _burned_ the thing.”

“How about a shapeshifter?”

“How about you stop beating my ego?” Sam asked, giving his brother a sharp look, but it didn’t upset Dean at all.

“You still didn’t answer my question. What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

Dean grinned. “Really, Sammy, it’s hard to tell.”

Sam motioned to the laptop. Dean looked at the screen.

“Apple pie?”

“Yeah,” Sam said unhappily. “I found the recipe on the web, so I wanted to try it. Didn’t turn out very well though.”

Dean came closer to see Sam’s work. “Hmm… I can distinguish some apples… Give me the fork.”

“You’re not gonna eat it, are you?” Sam asked incredulously.

“Dude, it’s _pie_!” Made by Sam. That was the most important fact. And as long as Sam wasn’t such a big fan of it and there was no one else but the two of them, Dean came to the conclusion the pie was actually meant for him and that brought a smile on his face and warmth into his heart. “Gimme the fork, I wanna try.”

Sam handed him the fork hesitantly, glancing at the pie suspiciously. “I don’t want you to get sick,” he said, watching Dean bend over the pie and take a small piece of it.

Dean put the piece in his mouth, munching slowly and then swallowing. Sam was watching him intently, waiting.

“So?”

Dean laughed. “This is the worst pie I’ve ever eaten.” But definitely the most precious. He took another piece.

Sam chuckled. “Jerk.”

“Bitch,” Dean replied with full mouth, grinning. “Don’t worry, next time we’ll make it better.”

“We?”

Dean nodded. “I’ll help you.”

Sam laughed. “Sorry, man, but I doubt the thing will be even edible that way.”

“Hey!” Dean frowned. “The pie will be excellent!”

“Okay, next time,” Sam grinned.

Dean grinned back, eating the pie contentedly, leaving the burned part.

They got to bed in the same time, not waiting for one of them to fall asleep before the other one even thought about getting in bed, but they still kept their distance.

“The pie wasn’t so bad,” Dean said when Sam got under the comforter beside him.

“As for apple pie, what is bad for you?” Sam asked with an amused smile.

“That’s right,” Dean chuckled. “Will you tell me now what’s been going on the whole day?”

Sam looked at Dean, and it definitely wasn’t a confused look despite his question. “What do you mean?”

“You forgot to text me and then you suddenly showed up in the garage, taking me out for the lunch. And now you even baked pie. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Sam said. “I just thought it was a good idea.”

Dean watched the face that wasn’t as innocent as it probably should have been and the eyes that were darker than he knew when Sam was telling truth.

“Good idea?”

“Yeah.”

And Sam wasn’t even in a sharing mood.

“Okay…” Tomorrow’s a day, too. Why to spoil this one?

Before he had a chance to turn away from Sam, a question came: “How long are you planning on staying in this place?”

Dean stared at Sam for a moment. What was this about? “Until your memories return, of course.”

“And then?”

“We’ll go back to hunting.” What else?

Sam wriggled under the comforter a bit, breathing out into his pillow. “Can’t we take off sooner? Do my memories matter that much?”

“Wait, Sam! What are you talking about?” How could he ask something like this? Of course his memories mattered! Especially those Dean cherished like some treasure…

“Do you even wanna go back to hunting? Isn’t this the life that makes you happy? Stable home, good work…”

Dean’s forehead creased. “Now wait a sec. What are you asking me now? Whether I want to go back to hunting as soon as possible or whether I want to stay?”

“Both. We can settle down somewhere and carry on with hunting – the same way Bobby did. Maybe we could go see what is still there of his junkyard and…”

“Hey!” Dean cut Sam’s speech off. “Now let me guess the point of this conversation. You wanna leave this place. Why?”

“Why do you wanna stay _here_? We can have this anywhere else.”

Dean sat up, frowning for real now. “Not that the place matters to me that much… but I’d really appreciated you to tell me what is wrong about this one.”

Sam sat up as well, trying to look smaller than he was in reality, those familiar puppy eyes glancing at Dean. “It brings bad memories. I don’t feel comfortable here and I don’t get why you should.”

And there was this suspicion that Sam’s words had a deeper meaning than the bitch was willing to reveal. “Sam?” Dean addressed him strictly.

Sam cowered even more. “You brought me here to give me everything I needed… then. I don’t need it anymore…”

“Don’t feed me with this crap and get to the point,” Dean said, and maybe he was harsher than he meant to, but Sam was obviously avoiding getting straight to the point.

“I remember your hurt face whenever I got worse. I remember how you struggled for every single minute of happiness. I remember how you broke down in THIS place, in THIS house. I remember your surrender back in that filthy shed when I almost killed you, your empty eyes when I almost bit you right in THIS bed.”

Dean stared. For a long time he wasn’t able to say anything while he was trying to put his thoughts into the right order. Sam was gazing back at him, waiting, his face guilty – the expression exactly the one Dean hated from the bottom of his heart.

“You son of a bitch,” he said slowly. “You remember everything. How long?”

“Since the night I had the nightmare about Purgatory,” Sam replied in a low voice.

“Two days. Two whole days you were acting like nothing happened. You saw what I was going through and you still didn’t have the decency to tell me.”

“Dean…”

“What were you waiting for? Santa to give you permission next Christmas?”

“Dean…”

But Dean was already getting out of bed and looking for his pants and shirt.

Two long days was Sam making a fool of him, giving him hope – especially today. And now? Now Dean found out that nothing of that was what he hoped it was, that it was probably just some moronic thank you or whatever, he didn’t really want to know.

“I gave you everything… and even more. I gave you myself! I trusted you.”

“Dean, please… Just hear me out.” Sam got out of bed as well.

“Shut up, I want to hear nothing more,” he said coldly, pulling his jeans on, not bothering with the shirt, and he set off for the door.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“Out. I can’t talk to you right now,” Dean snapped as he opened the door.

“Wait!” There was urgency and desperation, plea, fear and many other emotions in that one word, but Dean didn’t turn back, didn’t stop. He wanted to be as far away from Sam right now as possible. He didn’t want to see his puppy dog eyes, his guilt, to hear how sorry he was. What could he be sorry for, anyway? There was just one thing that came in Dean’s mind. Also the reason why Sam waited till now. Dean’s brother didn’t want to go back to what they were before he lost his human self, didn’t want to become Dean’s lover ever again, he just didn’t know how to say it.

He hurried out, counting the steps that were parting him from Sam and bringing closer to his metallic baby, his eternal love that would never break his heart just like Sam did right now.  

“Dean!” Sam called, running after him. “Please, please…” He grabbed Dean’s wrist, but Dean freed from his grip.

“Don’t touch me!” he hissed and got in the car. It took him only a few seconds to start the engine and the Impala moved.

He glanced into the rearview mirror, although he knew it would just crush him down even more. Sam was standing there, looking after him, and he looked like a lost puppy, a kicked dog… and didn’t it remind Dean of the night when he left Sam in Yellowstone?

“Dammit!” he cursed under his breath, getting on the road, and breaking the speed limit, he was receding from his brother.

*

For a long time Sam was just standing outside the cottage and staring into the darkness, hoping Dean would come back eventually and Sam would get the chance to explain, would be able to tell Dean about his fears. He could see the wolf behind every corner pushing him into things he never wanted to do, never wanted to reveal, and Dean simply danced according the wolf’s howling. Sometimes Sam was thankful for all the words and touching, kissing, cuddling, lovemaking – all the moments when he felt happier than any time before, even though he knew the wolf’s true intention. He wanted Dean, wanted to make him his, fooling him, using Sam’s feelings to get him and in the end, he almost achieved that bloody goal. And now, when the beast was gone, could Sam ask for all those things again?

He hated this place; there was nothing that could hold him back but Dean. Sam’s brother managed to build something here, he and only he had the right to call this place home. Not Sam. For Sam, it was like being in prison. He needed to get away from here to look into himself, to get rid of his fear to hurt Dean ever again like this, to break him like a splinter.

And there was one more thing taking his peace away. He remembered Raphael and he knew Dean must have paid a price… but what the price was Dean was hiding and when Sam brought up the subject, Dean brushed it from the table with his “not now”. If not now, then when?

He sat down on the threshold and leaned against the doorframe, still waiting for his brother to come back. He could see stars above his head and he imagined Dean stopping the car for a moment and watching the same stars. He tried to ignore the pain in his chest not ceasing but building up more and more, and he listened to the silence around, trying to catch the slightest noise of the returning Impala.

He was thinking about the day, about the hints Dean didn’t get: the date, the pie – they were supposed to tell Dean that Sam wanted him but wasn’t sure whether he was allowed to. He wanted Dean to make the first step because he wasn’t able to do it himself. 

He shivered with cold. He opened his eyes to the shy rays of the morning sun shining down on him through the treetops. Man, he didn’t even realize he fell asleep. His stiff body ached and the cold was getting right to his bones. The Impala was still gone, everything was as silent as at night. Sam sighed, ignoring his stomach giving him the sign that it was time to eat. He watched the only direction from where the Impala could come…but there was no sound of the strong engine, no black hood in sight.

And Sam still sat there, waiting and hoping. Dean would come back any minute, he would appear among those trees, he would stand there and say that he was not going to leave Sam like this ever again…

He was freezing, but he refused to go in even for a second. He didn’t want to miss Dean’s return. He was unreasonable he knew that; going in to get dressed or just taking a blanket would have taken him no more than a minute, but Sam still didn’t want to go in if there was a chance he would notice the familiar car among the trees any moment.

And he did at last. After almost an hour, when the sun got above the treetops finally, its rays reflected from the hood of the car Sam waited for the whole night.

Dean parked and got out, looking surprised to see Sam sitting in the doorway just in his T-shirt and boxers curled up in a ball and shivering all over.

“What are you doing here?”

“Waiting,” Sam replied truthfully, feeling relief flooding his whole being. Dean was back.

“Idiot,” Dean muttered. “Go inside,” he commanded, waiting for Sam to stand up (which wasn’t that easy with his body stiff and aching), and then he literally pushed him into the cottage. “How long have you been out?” he asked as he went for a thick blanket.

“… uhm,” Sam shrugged, giving his brother a shy, apologetic smile.

Dean stood still for a moment, gazing at Sam incredulously. “You didn’t! The whole night?” He strode to his brother swiftly. “You’re insane,” he said, wrapping Sam into the blanket, avoiding his eye.

“Dean…” Sam started hesitantly.

“You should get something warm into yourself. What would say to coffee? I need one, too…” Dean interrupted Sam quickly, walking to the kitchen counter, and he started preparing the coffee.

Sam sat down at the table. Dean didn’t want to talk… Okay, he could wait for a while. But sooner or later they would have to talk anyway.

They drank the coffee in complete silence, glancing at each other when they thought the other one didn’t look. In the end, Sam couldn’t take it anymore and he decided to start with something harmless:

“Where have you been the whole night?” He tried not to sound too curious or anxious.

Dean put the mug with the coffee on the table, looking indifferent, but Sam knew it was just a mask behind which a good load of emotions was hidden. “I was driving. I wanted to crash in a motel, but then I realized I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep anyway…”

Sam nodded, hugging his own mug in his big hands. Why were they doing this to each other? “Dean,” he addressed his brother in a low voice, but instead of listening to Sam, Dean glanced at his watch.

“Dammit, I’ll be late for work!” he cried, jumping up from his chair.

“Dean, wait!” Sam was on his feet himself.

“Sorry, Sammy, I need to go. See you later,” Dean said, checking whether he had the keys from the Impala in the pocket of his jacket, and he just wanted to hurry out when Sam grabbed his arm.

“Wait!”

“What the…?” The rest of his sentence stayed unspoken as Sam pressed his mouth on Dean’s in a demanding kiss. Dean didn’t try to shove him away, but he didn’t reciprocate either.

Sam pulled away after a while, his breath quick and restless. “You didn’t understand me yesterday,” he whispered. “And now you’re avoiding the subject purposefully.” That was a clear reproach.

Dean inhaled. “Er… I gotta go, Sam. See you,” he said, hurrying into his car, and the only thing Sam could do was to watch him leave – again – and hope they would have a chance to fix this mess.

*

Sam decided to visit Dean at work and not to wait for his return. He wasn’t sure Dean would go right home and there was a big chance he would simply come back only late at night using his tiredness as an excuse why they couldn’t talk. In the garage, there was nowhere to escape. Dean would have to talk to his brother or they were done. Sam knew this wasn’t the best strategy, but he doubted there was better.

Dean’s colleagues weren’t strangers, he met them often in town and they knew him as Dean’s sick boyfriend who had been cured magically but was still recovering and that was why he wasn’t working yet and was financially dependent on his lover.

He walked in, greeted by the guys going out for the lunch break. Someone told him in which corner he could find Dean and when he found his brother, he guessed someone must have told him about Sam’s visit, because Dean was already waiting for him and those frightened eyes told Sam that his brother knew perfectly well what Sam was there for.

“This is neither the right place nor the time, Sam,” Dean said as he sat down on a mat spread on the floor next to the car he worked on.

“I know,” Sam replied, taking the place next to his brother. He didn’t need to say more.

The older Winchester fidgeted a bit, staying wordless, giving his brother the space to start whatever Sam wanted to talk about.

“I remember everything,” Sam said in a soft tone, “from the point I was bitten to the point I died. I remember Purgatory. If there’s a difference between my Hell and my Purgatory, then the former is more about pain while the latter about fear. The emotions are still deep within me, though they are not as sharp as they were before Raphael healed me.”

“That means the dick did a good job,” Dean said.

“I guess,” Sam replied and his smooth forehead creased. “I remember us – the way we lived, the way we loved each other, the way we dealt with my condition. I remember your efforts and how it was breaking you. I remember your fears and worries, your sorrow, your hopelessness. The deeper we were falling into this – the more we gave and took – the more it was crushing both of us…”

Sam watched Dean’s look wandering all around the garage but never stopping on his brother.

“You’ve been healed,” Dean said, his voice hard and firm.

“Yes,” Sam said slowly. “Dean…” His hand touched Dean’s and Sam’s brother stiffened, but didn’t pull his hand away. “What did you give Raphael to save my soul?”

Dean’s hand under Sam’s fisted. “You don’t need to know everything,” he said, frowning.

Sam exhaled slowly, pulling his hand away. “He’s taken you from me. Soul for soul… What else could an angel want?”

Dean looked at Sam, startled. He didn’t need to say anything for Sam to know he was right.

“Did you promise him your soul, Dean?” Sam’s voice was soft. He couldn’t really get mad at Dean, though he couldn’t be okay with this either. “Dean?”

“You weren’t supposed to know this,” Dean said, hypnotizing his shoelaces.

“I still have a brain in my head and I know how to use it,” Sam said. “I just wasn’t one hundred percent sure.”

“I became his bitch…” Dean said, and his voice trembled with emotion. He was frowning, avoiding Sam’s eye. Sam felt an urge to hug him, to offer the comfort of his embrace, to hide Dean from Heaven and Hell or anything that could get between them. But how could he protect his brother from something that was already done?

“We’ll find the way…”

Dean raised his head and looked at Sam sharply. “No, Sammy. This is final. The time on the earth belongs to us, the time after… it’s soon to talk about it.”

“It’s never soon. Especially with the two of us.” Sam tangled his fingers with Dean’s. “You gave me half of your time. Let me do something for you now.”

“Sam, no…”

Sam put his other hand on Dean’s mouth, silencing him. “I love you for eternity.”

“Sam…” Dean swallowed hard. “You idiot…”

Sam chuckled. “The best reply to a guy’s confession. Really, Dean…” Then he got serious again. “I don’t want to see you broken ever again…”

Dean pulled away from Sam, standing up. “You made that clear yesterday.”

Sam sighed. “You so don’t understand….”

“Or I understand too well,” Dean turned to Sam. “The break is almost over, you should go.”

“It is not.” Sam stood up slowly. “Take the rest of the day off,” he said. “I need to show you something.”       

Dean sighed heavily. “I came back just yesterday. I can’t take the rest of the day off. It has to wait.”

“Dean, please,” Sam insisted.

“No, Sam. I have my responsibilities. You’ll show me whatever you want when I get back home.”

Sam’s jaw tightened and he stared at his brother as a stubborn puppy. Dean gazed back at him with cold calmness. It was a fight who would capitulate first.

“Fine,” Sam snapped finally, and not waiting for Dean to say anything, he walked to the door. He hoped with every step that Dean would stop him, but there was no sound.

Sam exited the garage with a feeling of betrayal, and got into the Impala, not starting. He didn’t know what to do or where to go now, but definitely he was not going “home”. His “home” was fixing a car in the garage.  

*

Dean washed the car oil from his hands, wiping the water into his pants. His shift was over and it was time to go home and talk to Sam. Talk. To Sam. He couldn’t say he looked forward to it, but Sam looked pretty insistent back during the lunch break, so maybe… maybe…

Dean bit his lip and walked out from the garage. No, Sam made it clear that he didn’t want to go back. He might have been in love with Dean, but he had been for years and still managed to keep his distance when it went down to his screwed-up feelings. Sam loved him as a lover, but didn’t want to pass the border of brotherly relationship. Dean wasn’t sure how could he live with that. Sam said he didn’t want to see Dean broken ever again, but didn’t the bitch see that he was breaking Dean the more effectively like this?

He exited the yard of the service department and… he froze on the spot. The Impala was parked near the entrance and Sam was sitting behind the wheel, reading some shit in daily press.

Dean frowned, walking to the car.

“What are you doing here?” he asked coldly.

Sam closed the newspaper, putting it away. “Waiting for you to take you home.”

“I have a car here.”

Sam made the face of a kicked puppy, saying nothing.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Take the old junk, I’ll drive the Impala. We meet at home.”

“Or we can leave it here and we’ll go to the town together tomorrow when you go to work and I’ll take one of the cars home…”

Dean glared. “Why do you need to be such a stubborn bitch? Move, shotgun, I’m driving.”

Sam obeyed immediately this time. He got out from the car and ran to the door on the other side. In a while, they were sitting in the car, Dean in the driver’s seat and Sam riding shotgun.

“What did you want to show me?” Dean asked when Sam stayed silent.

“At home.”

“All right.” Dean stepped on the gas, heading out from the town.  

*

Barely did they get out from the car when Sam looked at Dean expectantly.

“Well?” Dean diminished the distance between them.

Sam beckoned to Dean and walked to the shed behind the cottage. Dean followed him curiously.

“What do you see?” Sam asked, giving the shed a scowl.

Dean didn’t understand. “Er… a shed?” he offered.

“Do you wanna know what I see? I see the day you found me here eating the rabbit,” Sam said, not waiting for Dean’s reply. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to forget the disgust in your face. I buried it exactly as you told me to do.”

Dean remembered that day. It was one of the moments when he got enough, when he wanted that madness to stop right away.

“And the shed itself… it’s the place where I almost killed you!” Sam turned to Dean, his eyes gleaming, an apology visible in them.

“Sammy…” Dean wanted to say that it was over, but Sam cut him off, not listening.

“When the wolf took control over me, he locked all my memories of you deep inside me so that I wasn’t able to reach them. It was my price for giving you this,” he touched lightly the amulet hanging around Dean’s neck. “But I wouldn’t want it any other way,” he added softly.

Dean was silent, listening carefully. This was his chance to know what Sam had thought and felt, why he was so aggressive and hostile… where his ferocity came from. He reached for the amulet, curling his fingers around it.

“I’m happy to see it back where it belongs to,” Sam said like in a trance, watching Dean’s hand clutching the amulet.

“What was then?” Dean asked in a low voice. “Why did you want to kill me?”

“You caused me pain. My name said by you was the key to the locked memories and it damn hurt when you said it. You were digging deeper and deeper and in my crazy world I identified you with the name and I thought…” Sam swallowed.

Dean wanted to reach out to rub his shoulder soothingly, but he didn’t. “It’s okay, Sammy. It’s over,” he said instead.

Sam shook his head. “It’s not. When I look at this shed, I can see and feel how I hated you, how I wanted to silence you because you kept repeating my name in such a sad tone that it hurt almost as much as Purgatory…”

Now Dean got it. Got it all. And he really didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t good in giving comfort. On the other hand, Sam didn’t look like he wanted any right now. There was fire in his eyes that only he could extinguish and it seemed existentially important for Sam to get this out, to confess to Dean all his fears and ill feelings he had to deal with while he was a werewolf.

“… and that tree,” Sam continued, looking at the tree trunk to which Dean had bound him with the silver chain, “just reminds me all the hatred and pain. And the bitch Fate and her whispering that if I killed you I wouldn’t feel them anymore, that I would be free…”

“She wanted us to finish off each other,” Dean said.

“I know…” Sam made a desperate face. “When I look around here, I can see all that suffering and sorrow in your eyes. I can see how you were breaking… each day you were closer to surrender…”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Dean said, but Sam didn’t seem to hear him.

“Not even the forest brings me comfort. How much time would I spend there! Thinking of blood and kill… and sometimes a hard fuck with you.” Sam’s face puckered with disgust of himself.

“Sammy, it’s all gone,” Dean said softly, putting his hand on Sam’s shoulder, but Sam shook it off.

“It’s not. This whole place is like that. Even the cottage. Even our bed where I almost bit you. Even the kitchenette when you looked at me worried how much I was able to eat. Even the bathroom where you washed the towels dirty with blood…”

“Sam,” Dean’s voice was firm this time. “That’s rubbish. We spent a lot of nice time here too.”

Sam laughed humorlessly. “Nice time! Yeah… I was happy like no one else could be that you didn’t reject me! But it was all because the wolf wanted you. And I didn’t want to allow him to take you by force, so he made me say and do things that were supposed to stay hidden. He used my love for you to get you into his web and you fell for it...” Sam’s voice trailed off.

Dean stared. What was this? A rejection? He didn’t need to hear it again. He didn’t want to. It was tearing him up from inside. Why Sam didn’t understand such a simple thing?

Sam looked at Dean and the fire that was there just a while ago was all gone.

“I love you, Dean, and I always will,” Sam started again.

“But?” Dean’s patience was slowly reaching its end. Sam could be really cruel…

“The wolf would never have been able to get you if I hadn’t loved you this much.”

Dean frowned. “Wait, Sam. That’s complete rubbish.”

Sam looked at Dean curiously and there was a sparkle Dean didn’t expect to see. Did Sam hope to hear exactly this?

“That’s just stupid. Brothers or lovers, we would have ended up like this one way or another. Dammit, Sammy, I went to Hell for you, not knowing anything about your feelings! You’ve always been the most precious person to me since the moment you were born. Are you really that blind not to see that?”

Sam’s lips parted as though he wanted to say something, but words stayed stuck in his throat. Instead, his eyes filled with moisture, though not a single tear came out. Dean would have punched him if Sam had started crying now! He frowned.

“You’re such a moron,” he said, turning around and walking back to the front door of the cottage. He could hear Sam’s hurried steps and his brother entered the cottage right after Dean. Dean didn’t care about him anymore. If Sam hadn’t understood his words, then it was his own fault. Dean had enough of this stupid dance around each other, both waiting for the other one to finally clear the things, but it wasn’t Dean to make the first step. It was Sam’s responsibility.

The rest of the evening was silent, reminding Dean of the times when words left Sam, however this time his brother wasn’t looking for comfort in solitude, but instead of that (maybe not even realizing it himself) he was searching for Dean’s closeness. When Dean was in the kitchenette, Sam was there too, sitting at the table and checking something on the internet. When Dean moved to the couch, Sam followed him in a while, taking some book and reading. When Dean got out from the bathroom after having a hot, calming shower, he found Sam sitting on the windowsill close to the place where Dean’s duffel was resting on the floor.

When Dean got to bed finally, Sam took a quick shower and was in bed in relatively short time. He shifted closer, obviously with an intention. Dean looked at him, seeing a question in Sam’s eyes. He lifted his arm and Sam cuddled up to him, putting his head on his brother’s shoulder. Dean wrapped his arm around Sammy, breathing his faint scent and wondering how he smelled to Sam now.

Sam wriggled a bit, pressing closer, and he hooked one leg with Dean’s, closing his eyes, not seeing the smile curling his brother’s lips. Dean delivered a small kiss on the crown of Sam’s head and Sam sighed contentedly as if a ton of iron had just fallen from his heart.

Hugging his brother close, Dean slept like a baby that night.

*

Sam woke up, panting, from a nightmare. He dreamed about four paws and sharp teeth biting into his brother’s neck. He wanted to scream, but no sound came out, muffled by the great amount of flesh tasting of sweet blood.

“Sammy,” soft voice penetrated his dream, and he flinched, opening his eyes and seeing his brother’s face. Dean removed a strand of untidy hair from Sam’s forehead, wiping the cold sweat away at a time.

Sam gave a quiet sigh of relief and pressed close to the firm body beside him, resting his head on Dean’s chest. He felt a light, soothing rub of a gentle hand on his back and he couldn’t feel else but thankful for the beating heart in his brother’s ribcage and blood still circulating in his veins.

Dean was silent, waiting for Sam to calm down, and when finally Sam’s breathing became slow and even again, he spoke to him softly:

“I need to get up, Sammy.”

Sam’s body tensed, clinging to his brother like a child to a parent, but Dean never stopped rubbing his back in that soothing way, talking to him gently:

“It’s okay, you’re awake. No one’s gonna hurt you, I won’t allow that.”

Yes, exactly… That was so Dean…

Sam sighed into Dean’s T-shirt, lifting from him, letting Dean leave the bed.

While Dean was in the bathroom, Sam made them coffee. Maybe if they left a few minutes earlier, they could buy donuts for breakfast. He said that to his brother and Dean agreed with a smile.

They were silent most of the time, not needing words to understand each other. They drank the coffee and Sam got dressed quickly so they could leave as soon as possible. Dean drove his baby to the town and waited in front of a store for Sam to buy the donuts. They ate, enjoying the sweet taste and the familiarity of the whole action: the two of them having meal in the Impala – the same as so many times before during their endless hunts. Dean went to work after that and Sam took the Impala home.

He looked around the cottage and sighed. Dean didn’t say what his plans for the near future were, but Sam could see that there were already things that could hold him back, hold him in this place, and if Dean was happy, Sam didn’t want to take that away from him.

He bit his lip, looking around the place one more time. He forced his mind to concentrate on good things they experienced here: morning rituals (Sam had always hated seeing his brother leaving – even for work), the sent text message (why the fuck could it be just one?), Dean’s calls during lunch breaks (he had just missed his brother even more), Dean’s returns (yeah, they had definitely been great, although Sam had had to be careful not to suffocate his brother in his bear hug or crush his bones), the dinners (with Sam’s increasing appetite had increased Dean’s worry – Sam hadn’t been blind not to see that), cuddling on the couch (see the part about crushing bones and suffocating Dean), reading (besides cuddling and making out this would have been Sam’s most favorite activity if there hadn’t been the times when he had hardly been able to say a word in human speech, not talking about reading or even writing), making out (see again the note about suffocating Dean and crushing his bones plus add a note about difficulties with self-control), getting to bed and sleeping snuggled up to each other (did he need to mention nightmares?).

Sam fisted his hands, lifting his head high and giving the interior a long, determined look. He was a fighter and he was not letting bad memories beat him like a dog. If Dean wanted to stay, Sam was going to stay with him. It was time to start creating his own ties to this place. He took a deep breath and turned on the laptop. At first he would find a job. Other things would come with that.

He was browsing the job offers for the area when he suddenly heard the roar of the engine of the old junk coming from outside. Sam jumped to his feet, hurrying to the door. As he yanked it open, he could see Dean getting out from the car, grinning from ear to ear.

“What...?” he asked uncomprehendingly.

“Pack your things, bitch. We’re leaving,” Dean said, pushing Sam away from the doorway, still grinning like a loon.

“Leaving? Where to?”

Dean grabbed his duffel, looking around. “Take everything you don’t want to leave behind. We’re not coming back.”

Sam stared at Dean (who rummaged through Sam’s collection of books, finding the one he wanted – Grimms’ Fairy Tales – and packing it with his own things). “Are we moving out?”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

Dean stopped pacing the room and searching for the things he wanted to pack. “You hate it here, don’t you?”

“But you…”

Dean gave Sam a hard look. “No, you won’t get another chick flick moment. Just forget that.”

Sam shook his head. “You have work here.”

“Which I quit.”

“You have friends…”

“Strangers.”

“You’re happy here.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Huh?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I told you no chick flick moments. Pack your crap, we’re leaving in a few.”

“I don’t have a bag.”

Dean rolled his eyes and threw a blanket to Sam. “Better than nothing.”

Sam didn’t hesitate anymore. Dean looked really determined about this whole leaving thing and Sam really had no reason to say no. Holy shit, they were _leaving_! Leaving this house, this forest, this place altogether. Leaving all the bad here, taking only the good with them.

“Dean?”

“Hm?”

Sam glanced at his brother, a content smile curling his lips. “I l-“

“Say that and I’ll kill ya, bitch,” Dean interrupted him sharply, but his eyes were smiling. “I told you something about chick flick moments.”

Sam laughed. He tied a knot around his belongings. “Done.”

Dean glanced at Sam’s collection of books spread over the floor. “Are you sure you’ve taken everything you wanted?”

Sam smiled, coming up to Dean. “Yeah,” he said without looking back.

Dean nodded. “Okay then.” He wanted to move to the door when Sam’s voice stopped him:

“Dean.”

“What?” he said impatiently, turning to Sam.

Sam grabbed his brother’s collar, pulling him close and delivering a hot, open-mouthed kiss on his dry lips. He could feel Dean’s confusion, but then his big brother took control over the kiss, cupping Sam’s face in his hands while Sam’s grip on his collar loosened.

The taste was exactly the same Sam remembered; the passion Dean put into the kiss was familiar and exciting and… fuck, if Sam didn’t pull away, he would have to struggle with a solid hard-on… He moaned into Dean’s mouth and the jerk grinned, hooking his finger in a loop of Sam’s jeans and yanking him closer. He deepened the kiss and Sam recognized urgency in it. He tried to make the kiss gentler, but Dean absolutely ignored his effort, turning the kiss into something desperate. His hands were suddenly in Sam’s hair, holding Sam close, not letting him pull away. Not that Sam wanted to, of course he didn’t, but contrary to what he had expected when he kissed his brother (he put his apology into the kiss and expected to receive forgiveness through it), Dean managed to change it into something completely different. Sam never felt so much need and anger and desire in one kiss. The message was clear: _Don’t you fucking dare to do this to me ever again!_ He wound his long arms around Dean, who gave a quiet sigh and _finally_ the ferocity he put into the kiss started ceasing. The kiss became sensual and – Holy Mother of the Lord! – Sam wanted to have Dean far away from this place full of pain and take him somewhere where he could cherish him the way Dean deserved it. He wanted to give him all the love he was capable of, wanted to make him the happiest person in the world. He broke the contact, hearing a disapproving low growl, even though he didn’t try to pull away.

“Let’s go, baby,” he whispered, still holding Dean in his embrace, breathing him. “The world’s waiting for us.”

Dean laughed quietly and freed himself from Sam’s arms.

They got out from the cottage, none of them looking back. They got into the Impala and when Dean turned on the radio and the hit from AC/DC _B_ _ack in Black_ roared from the speakers, Sam knew he found his way home at last. His journey had been long and tortuous, but thanks to his gorgeous guide through the darkness and guardian in one person he managed to find his way back. They both lost much, but they both gained even more. Sam glanced at Dean and Dean back at him and they grinned at each other. Sam’s hand rested on Dean’s thigh and his brother’s grin became even wider.

The sun reflected from the black polished hood of the Impala, and Sam listened contentedly to the purring engine while Dean was singing along with Brian Johnson.

They were back in black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to be the last one, but there are still a few things I want to return to, that's why I added another chapter (and called it simply a "special chapter", because it doesn't really fit into the counting, though the story continues in it).   
> Thanks for reading the story, anyway, and have patience with me. I'll upload the "special chapter" as soon as possible ;)


	12. For Eternity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it, the so-called "special" chapter. As I look at it now, I really don't know why I called it that way. It's simply the last chapter of the story, talking about a few things that I wanted to tell and so make the last dot after the story. (As you can see, there are more dots in the end XD see you in the epilogue XD)

Sam and Dean’s world slowly came back to normal, although there were more differences in comparison to the life they lived Before. Firstly, because their souls had been stripped to the core for each other, it was easier for them to read each other’s feelings and intentions from a single gesture or grimace and they were hardly wrong. Sam noticed one thing (which, as he could see, Dean noticed too, but they never talked about it – didn’t need to) and that was while they were close to each other, their hearts beat in complete unison. If something made Dean excited, Sam would feel the increased speed of his own heartbeat, if something made Sam upset (there were really very few occasions for feeling like that), Dean’s hand was on his shoulder immediately, not leaving until Sam’s breathing slowed down.

They developed a new habit: Every night when they went to sleep (Dean always took a room with two queens, but they never used both beds), Sam’s big brother brought Grimms’ Fairy Tales, the only book they took from the cottage, and either made Sam read for him or he read for Sam the porn versions of the stories. They usually didn’t manage to read more than a few pages until tiredness won over them, and they cuddled up to each other and fell asleep like that.

They tried to keep low profile; they were still suspected of a mass murder, though no one tried to stop them and put in jail, but the less they provoked Lady Luck the better. Nevertheless, they went back to hunting, starting with routine and easy things. The very first was a ghost haunting an old house and bothering the family living there. They managed to vanquish it in no more than one day. The second one was a demon they met rather accidentally than intentionally. Sam recognized it right away, not knowing how or why, but he knew it was a son of a bitch from Hell and with Dean’s help he cornered him in a back street and killed him out of sight from anyone.

He noticed something was off the moment the demon went down and in a corner of his eye Sam glimpsed Dean’s expression. They didn’t talk about it (to be precise, they didn’t talk at all) until they got back to their motel room and both had shower and got to bed. Dean took the first turn and when Sam joined him in bed, he looked at him worriedly.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, of course. Why?” Sam asked, waiting for Dean to tell him at last what the hell was wrong.

“What was that with the demon, Sam?”

Sam really didn’t know what the right answer was. He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Sam.” Dean’s voice was strict and annoyed, making clear that he didn’t want to hear any bullshit.

“I don’t know,” Sam repeated, trying to sound as sincere as he meant it. “The moment I saw the guy I knew what he was and I just wanted to gank him.”

“Is that all?” Dean didn’t sound convinced.

Sam nodded, shifting closer to Dean. “Why do you ask?”

“Because it reminded me of your old lust for demon blood,” Dean said, waiting for Sam to say something, to disprove his suspicion. Sam saw that hope in his brother’s big, worried eyes. He could say it was stupid and there was nothing like that and take away that worry reflecting in Dean’s face, but he would just have laid the cornerstone of the old-new crap based on lies that had been building between them for years and finally they were able to clear. No, he was not going that way ever again.

He wriggled under the sheets, dropping his look. “Dean…”

He could feel Dean’s heart racing. “Sammy…” It sounded broken.

_No, please…_

Sam looked at his brother, taking a deep breath. “I won’t lie to you. I didn’t need more than a single look to feel the deepest grudge against demons. I wanted to get him, but not because of his blood, Dean, you must believe me. I only wanted to either send him to Hell or kill him.”

Hope started taking over the fear in Dean’s eyes. “You’re not kidding, are you?”

Sam shook his head. “I’m not. I don’t long for demon blood anymore – that is true. I’m getting sick even when I think of it.”

Dean gave a sigh of relief and hugged Sam close. “Thank God…”

Sam smiled and kissed Dean’s temple. “I love you, baby.”

“Bitch,” Dean muttered into Sam’s hair. “I want to give you something.” He pulled away and moved to the other bed where their duffel bags were lying. He rummaged through his own until he found what he was looking for and returned back to Sam.

“Give me your hand,” he ordered.

“How bossy,” Sam chuckled, lifting his hand palm up. Dean took it and put something hard and cold into Sam’s hand. Sam looked at the thing glittering in his palm, seeing the familiar silver chain with the pendant in the shape of D. There was no fire burning him to bones, this time there was just a cool sensation.

“I want you to have it,” Dean said and his voice trembled a little.

Sam lifted his look from the chain, his eyes meeting Dean’s.

“I… I know it brings bad memories, but… you bought it with an intention, that’s why the pendant, right?” It was obvious he didn’t feel comfortable with saying those things out loud, but there was urgency in his voice, telling Sam that despite his discomfort this was important for Dean.

“Yes,” he said slowly, waiting for Dean to continue, but Dean took the chain and fastened it around Sam’s neck. Sam looked at the silver D glistening on his chest protected by a white T-shirt.

A dreamy smile appeared on Dean’s face but it seemed Dean didn’t realize that little fact at all.

“You are dear to me, Sammy, just like the D says,” he said, blood rushing into his cheeks as he looked away, embarrassed with his own words.

Sam smiled. “Once you said ‘devoted’,” he said with a grin.  

Dean’s eyes fixed on him again. “You remember?”

“Uhm,” Sam said, reaching for Dean and pulling him in his arms. “I remember a lot of things.”

Dean wiggled his eyebrows. “That sounds interesting. What do you remember for example?”

Sam sniggered. “For example I remember you liked this,” he said and his hand slipped under the waistband of Dean’s sweatpants abruptly and stroked his cock lightly.

Dean gasped, closing his eyes and leaning against Sam. Sam supported him and kept stroking, making Dean shiver.

“Good?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions, dammit…” Dean moaned as Sam’s hand played with him.

They didn’t touch each other like this since Sam had been healed. Of course they shared kisses quite a lot, but there was still that little fear holding them back, making the old passion return into their relationship only little by little.

And now Sam made another step bringing them closer to what they had been. Dean was sighing quietly into his ear, his hot breath tickling Sam’s skin. He looked so gorgeous and vulnerable in the same time, and Sam realized that his brother was giving, giving again as always, giving himself to Sam completely.

Gentleness flooded Sam’s whole being. Dean was something sacred, something that had to be treated with respect… Dean needed to feel he was loved (even though he would never have admitted that even to himself) and there was nothing Sam longed for more than make him know how precious he was for his little brother. He wanted Dean to know how much needed he was, how much important.

He tugged at Dean’s sweatpants, pulling them off with Dean’s help and exposing his brother’s swollen pride to the world. Sam watched it like hypnotized until he heard Dean’s unsatisfied groan in his ear. He licked his lips and reached out to stroke again. Dean sighed contentedly, digging his fingers into Sam’s T-shirt. Sam smiled, touching Dean with all his love.    

“Kiss me,” he whispered, and Dean’s eyes found Sam’s, but his look was already misted by pleasure. The pupils were wide and the thin ring of gold around them, merging with dark green, made the eyes look mystic. And then there was mouth pressed against Sam’s lips, giving a gentle but impatient bite. Sam hardened his next pull subconsciously and Dean moaned right into his mouth. Sam suppressed a chuckle, letting go of Dean’s cock so that his both hands could slip under the hem of his brother’s T-shirt and take it off.

Dean exhaled sharply and Sam could feel his frantic heartbeat, but he also knew it had nothing to do with anxiety but with excitement. He laid Dean into the sheets as tenderly as a mother her child, bending over him. Dean’s hand came up and ran through Sam’s hair, removing it from his face. The silver D was dangling right in front of his eyes and Dean looked at it and smiled. Sam bent lower, connecting with his brother in a new kiss. Dean reciprocated immediately, letting Sam penetrate his mouth, but it wasn’t for free, of course, and in a while Sam had to break the kiss, absolutely breathless. Dean gave him a triumphant grin, but his chest was heaving in the same quick rhythm as Sam’s.

Sam could feel a gentle touch of fingers on his belly and in the next second the fingers curled in the fabric of his T-shirt, yanking it off of Sam’s torso. “You too.”

Sam obeyed willingly, and when Dean started pulling off his sweatpants as well, he didn’t hesitate to grant Dean his wish.

They were staring at each other for a long time, their eyes asking each other whether they were really going to do this. It was Dean who decided for both of them. He put his hand on the nape of Sam’s neck, pulling him down for a passionate kiss, and spreading his legs, he didn’t need to say anything for Sam to understand it as an obvious invitation.

Sam sighed and sank on Dean’s body. He kissed him again while his hips rocked in a slow rhythm, looking only for friction that would awake his cock into full awareness. Dean’s hand came down, worming between them and curling around Sam’s manhood. Sam lifted his hips, letting Dean take care of this part of his body and it really didn’t take more than a minute or two to get Sam ready for the next action.

Their eyes met again in a silent communication. They might have done this plenty of times before, but this was the first time since Sam was human again and that was why it felt so different. And was also kind of scary.

Dean’s encouraging smile took away all Sam’s doubts.

“My bag,” Dean said in a husky voice, pushing against Sam’s chest lightly, a roguish smile playing on his lips.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Hm? Always prepared?”

Dean chuckled. “Shut up, horny, and get the lube.”

Despite the pressure against his chest, Sam bent low to kiss Dean before he moved from the bed. “Don’t move,” he said as he sat up.

“Bitch.”

Sam sniggered. “Jerk.”

He came up to the other bed and peered into Dean’s bag.

“On the bottom,” Dean directed him.

Sam shot him a you-don’t-say look and reached under the pile of Dean’s things, finding a small bottle of lube.

“See? Clever boy,” Dean teased him.

Sam rolled his eyes, getting back to bed and positioning between Dean’s spread legs. Opening the bottle and slicking his fingers, he watched his brother’s flushed face. Dean wasn’t smiling anymore and his chest was heaving in quick, nervous rhythm while his eyes were shut and hands clutching the sheets while he was waiting for Sam to prepare him for the actual penetration.

“Dean?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”  

Dean opened his eyes, looking at his brother. Sam didn’t need to say anything for Dean to know he was in good hands. He just nodded silently, taking a deep breath as Sam’s lubed fingers touched his entrance, stroking lightly before one of them pushed inside. He sighed and breathed out, fixing his darkened eyes on Sam.

Sam already knew what made Dean tick. A small twist of his finger hitting the right spot and Dean’s breath hitched in his lungs, making him spread the legs wider involuntarily.

Sam pulled the finger out just to push it in again with another one. Dean was breathing quickly, his eyes never leaving Sam’s face, not even when Sam’s fingers stroked over his prostate, making him shiver with pleasure all over. He didn’t stop watching Sam from under his half-closed eyelids even when Sam kissed his knee while fingering him, adding the third digit already, being all gentle and careful as he remembered to be.

“Sam,” Dean moaned, reaching for his brother.

“What’s up, love?” Sam bent forward closer to his brother so that Dean could touch his arm.

“Do it finally or I swear I’ll burst into pieces right now,” Dean said, squeezing Sam’s biceps painfully.  

“How impatient…” It was supposed to be a joke, but Dean’s reaction told Sam that it wasn’t appropriate.

“Damn, Sam! You’re playing with me like with a fifteen-year-old virgin. I’m not a girl. Get inside finally or I’ll come all over myself before you even have a chance to stick that stake of yours up my ass.”

“Okay, fine, I’m getting in,” Sam said quickly, trying to soothe his brother, but the only thing that could make Dean forget his exasperation was Sam’s cock pushing against his  entrance. Sam could hear a sharp intake of breath and Dean moaned as Sam slid in slowly, trying to be extremely careful. Dean trembled, hooking his legs around Sam’s waist, sheathing Sam completely.

“Now move, bitch,” he growled, and when Sam started moving finally, he sighed contentedly. “Good…” he said, closing his eyes.

Sam tried to be slow and careful, not wanting to hurt Dean anyhow, but after some time Dean glared at him, grabbing the silver chain hanging around Sam’s neck and pulled him lower, hissing right into his face:

“Harder.”

*

Dean let go of the chain immediately as he could see a flash of doubts and worry in Sam’s eyes… and maybe there was a bit of disappointment too.

“I thought…” Sam started, but the rest of the sentence died in his throat.

_Dammit…_

“Sammy, listen to me,” Dean said as his hands slid into Sam’s hair, holding his head so that Sam had no chance to look away. Yet, Sam didn’t look back into his brother’s eyes, but somewhere lower, probably at Dean’s chin.

“Sam.”

Sam flashed him a quick look, but then he kept hypnotizing Dean’s chin.

“You’re not a werewolf anymore. You don’t have the strength of Superman. You won’t break me like a porcelain doll, so stop worrying finally.”

Sam looked at him at last, a flicker of hope in his eyes. “But…”

Dean rolled his eyes and kissed the rest of Sam’s protest away. “There are no ‘but’s.”

“I can still hurt you,” the bitch said anyway.

“Sam,” Dean started again. Man, he deserved to be nominated for a Nobel Prize for patience. “I’m not a virgin in this, okay? You changed, but I didn’t. This might be new for both of us, but not as much for me as for you. I’m the same. I take the things the same way. You always held back before, I knew that as well as I knew that it was hard for you to keep that control over yourself. However, there was still more ferocity in the way you made love to me before than it is now. Although I know it is still there somewhere. You changed, but your needs and longings are the same, Sammy.” He smiled and tousled Sam’s hair, kissing him tenderly. “Now move. Give us what we both want.”

Sam didn’t reply, didn’t need to.

At first, it was shy slides turning rougher only little by little as though Sam was testing his strength and Dean noticed how much attention his brother paid to every Dean’s reaction. After a few minutes Sam caught the right pace and found the right intensity, and Dean moaned loudly, letting Sam know that this was exactly what he wanted, and trembling with every wave of pleasure that ran through his body he was closer to reaching the climax.

*

Sam couldn’t deny he was still afraid he could hurt his brother if he just thrust in a bit stronger. In order to give Dean what he wanted, Sam needed to reach within himself to look for the instincts the wolf had dug out from the depth of his soul, and what he found out wasn’t supposed to surprise him. Everything the wolf had used against him had already been there, the animal instincts weren’t so animal in the end and they always helped him to survive.

He reached in and he didn’t even need to look deep. He still could remember the old anger from before the time he had jumped into the Cage and he had hardly been able to fight. There was exactly the ferocity which helped him to push his fear away and fight for life and survive. He found it and he could use it now the way Dean wanted him to.

He needed some time to test his strength anyway, so he went easy at first. Dean didn’t seem to mind, holding on Sam’s biceps again and looking right into his eyes, an encouraging smile curling his lips.

Sam increased the pace and Dean shivered under him, a muffled groan coming out from the depth of his throat. Sam sighed quietly himself, managing the right friction. He changed the angle only a little, but obviously hit the right spot, because Dean’s eyes went wide and he moaned, trembling and digging his fingers into Sam’s arms. It hurt, but Sam didn’t mind. The sensation of Dean’s wet heat and the friction itself was pushing him step by step to the golden finale.

Dean squirmed under him and gave such a gorgeous sound that Sam wasn’t able to suppress the urge to kiss him. He stopped moving for a moment and Dean sighed into his mouth, then attacking it with his teeth, more biting than kissing, and Sam returning it with the same intensity.

Their mouths finally parted and Sam moved again. Dean moaned and shuddered, his one hand coming down to his cock to give it a few strokes before he came with a loud cry. Sam inhaled, bending lower over his panting brother and reaching his own orgasm shortly after Dean.

They stayed quiet, only their fast breathing was heard in the silent motel room. Sam pulled out of his brother carefully and Dean gasped, but then a satisfied smile curled his lips. His chest was still heaving rapidly, but the rhythm was slowing down, and Sam could feel Dean’s heart pounding in unison with his and calming down little by little.

Dean pushed Sam off of him and then into the soft sheets, bending over him himself and kissing his brother affectionately. Then he put his head on Sam’s chest, cuddling up to him – exactly the way Sam used to do to him.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “What is this?”

“What does it look like?”

“It looks like you’ve made a pillow outta me.”

“Damn straight. I deserve that.”

“Deserve to sleep sprawled over me?”

“I’m not sprawled over you. But yeah, I do. For all the nights you mistook me for a freaking teddy bear.”

Sam chuckled. “At least you smelled better than a stuffed toy.”

Dean lifted his head, looking at Sam. “Do you remember?”

“Yeah,” Sam said with nostalgia sounding in his voice, and he caressed Dean’s back absently. “Recognizing your odor among any others no matter how strong they were was something incredible. Especially when I learned to distinguish the different tones of it.”

Dean smiled. “That sounds interesting.”

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, but it’s over now. Unless you reek of sex of course.”

“I don’t reek. I smell nice,” Dean said, resting his head on Sam’s chest again.

“Are you gonna sleep?”

“I guess.”

Sam’s fingers followed the curves of Dean’s shoulder blades. “I love you, Dean,” he said. There was nothing better he could say both as thank you for everything and as a confession of how he felt for his brother.

“Bitch. Love you too,” Dean replied in his usual way like it wasn’t a big deal, but there was gentleness in his tone Sam could distinguish under the layer of pretended indifference.

He smiled, reaching for a comforter and covering them with it.

“Good night.”

“Mmmhm…” Dean replied sleepily, and that was all he said that night.

*

Sam didn’t sleep. He waited for his brother to enter the dreamland and then, as well as every night before, he tried to sneak out from the bed unnoticed. Usually Dean woke up or he was pinning Sam to bed with his life weight, making his escape impossible, but tonight there must have been some kind of a charm on him, because when Sam got up, Dean was still snoring quietly into his pillow.

Sam smiled and wanted to pull the comforter covering Dean higher, but then he changed his mind. Dean had sharp senses and if Sam had woken him up, he could forget his plan altogether.

He found his clothes in the dark and got dressed quickly. Reaching into the pocket of his brother’s jacket, he took the keys from the Impala and slipped out from the room.

Everything was silent outside, and when Sam started the car, its roar cut the silence with the intensity of a sharp blade. He cursed under his breath and pulled the Impala on the road.

After half hour or so he reached the warehouses at the very end of the town. He got out from the Impala, walking to her trunk. He knew weapons could hardly help him if something went wrong, but being without them when there was an imminent danger of any kind felt like offering himself to a hungry lion.

And wasn’t he doing exactly that right now?

He packed a metal bowl and some herbs into a duffel bag before he entered one of the warehouses. With a chalk, he drew a magical circle on the floor. Then he put the bowl in the center of the circle, throwing the herbs in it, and then he burned them.

“Raphael, come here, you ass,” he said and waited.

Minutes were stretching into eternity as it appeared to Sam. He looked around impatiently, still waiting, calling the archangel.

“Sam Winchester, what a surprise,” said a girl’s voice wryly. Sam looked into the pretty face of a teenager. He remembered her, remembered how he had seen through her and knew who had been riding her.

“Raphael,” he said, anger coloring his voice.

A smirk appeared on the girl’s lips, but then the archangel got serious again. “What do you want? Why did you call me?”

“I want you to give my brother’s soul back,” Sam spat.

The angel’s face stayed emotionless. “Soul for soul. It was a fair trade.”

 _Dean, you fool…_ “Why do you need him?”

“Dean Winchester’s soul is the one of the highest value. It’s strong, unstoppable and has a great potential. The only way to get to it was through you.” A new smirk curled the girl’s lips, and Sam understood that the angel was trying to make him feel guilty.

_Isn’t Raphael right? Dean would never have given up his soul if it weren’t for you._

Sam shook his head. No, he couldn’t think like that right now. He had to free Dean’s soul from the son of a bitch. “What do you want in exchange for his soul?”   

Raphael looked at him as though he had doubts about Sam’s mental health. “Didn’t you listen to me well? Who has Dean’s soul is the winner. I’m not giving it to anyone, especially not to you. I gave him the time on Earth, though. After he passes to Heaven, he belongs to me.”

“Why?” Sam tried to push away the desperation that slipped into his voice. “Dean gave me half of his time to bring me back from Purgatory. He was playing with the thought to let me turn him into a monster so that we could share the eternity at least. In the end he found the way to heal my soul and because of that you’re taking him away from me? Why?”

“It was a fair trade,” the angel repeated.

“I care CRAP about your fair trade!” Sam shouted, desperation welling out of him. “Give me my brother back! Please…”

Raphael didn’t show any emotion again. “His soul is mine. It was his payment.”

“Please.”

“I consider this conversation to be over,” the angel said coldly, turning away from Sam, ready to leave.

“Wait!” Sam cried to stop him. “Wait! I have an offer!”

That seemed to catch Raphael’s attention. “What offer?”

Sam took a deep breath. “Dean and I are stronger together…”

“Didn’t you listen to me? I’m NOT giving his soul back.”

“No, wait. I get it,” Sam said quickly. “I offer you my soul.”

Raphael was staring at Sam uncomprehendingly. “Why would you do that?”

“I’ll give you my soul, I’ll become you soldier, but I want to share the eternity with my brother. I want to fight alongside him in Heaven the same as on Earth.”

Raphael raised his head high, sizing Sam up.

“Please,” Sam whispered, and he didn’t try to hide his desperation anymore.

“All right,” the angel said finally, stepping closer to Sam, not giving him time for taking his words back (not that he wanted to) and put his hand on the younger Winchester’s chest. Light shone from his palm and Sam could hardly breathe with pain building up inside him. After a few seconds it was over. Sam sank on his knees, gasping for air.

“The deal had been made. After you enter Heaven, your soul is mine. For giving it to me freely, you and your brother will never be separated until the end of everything.”

“Thank you,” Sam breathed out and realized he was completely alone. He gathered the things he brought there and walked out from the warehouse. He put the duffel into the trunk of the Impala and then drove back to the motel. When he saw the light in the window of their room, he knew things weren’t going to be easy. He sighed, pulling the keys from the ignition, and got out from the car.

When he stepped into the motel room, he found Dean fully dressed and looking dangerous like he wanted to start giving punches. Sam didn’t doubt that if he said something Dean didn’t like, he would get one.

“Where the hell have you been!?” Dean shouted as he saw Sam in the doorway.

Sam closed the door. “Out. To get some air.” He stepped to the table they had in the room and put the keys from the Impala on it.

Dean watched him angrily and as the keys touched the table and a soft clang sounded, he took a deep breath as though he was getting ready for a longer monologue.

“You took my car without permission. I swear if there’s a scratch on her, I’ll kill ya! And now spit out where you went and don’t you dare trying to feed me with lies!”

“Dean, could you calm down, please?”

“No, I couldn’t unless you tell me what you’re hiding.”

Sam sighed, crossing the room to the made bed, taking off his jacket and throwing it next to their bags. He could feel Dean’s fiery glare on him. He knew why Dean was so upset. The old fear Sam could leave him or do something stupid was rooted deep within him. This would take some time to convince him Sam was not going to leave him. The ‘stupid’ part… well. Dean would be raging when he found out.

“Sam!”

“Let’s get some sleep, we’ll talk in the morning,” he said tiredly, but it seemed that only set Dean off even more.

“No! You tell me now where you went and what you did, or don’t you EVER climb into the same bed with me. That’s what you want? New crap gathering between us? New lies and hiding things? What the hell, Sam?”

Sam sighed helplessly. “Dean…”

Dean fixed his eyes on Sam and they looked greener than normal. Hope flickered in them that Sam would stop hiding things from him and would tell him what was going on. But wasn’t Dean doing the same all Sam’s life? Wasn’t he hiding from his little brother everything unpleasant?

“I talked to Raphael,” Sam said in the end, because one thing was right: If they start lying to each other now, they would get back to what they had been once. None of them wanted that. Especially now, when they were this happy.

Dean blinked, giving Sam a puzzled look. “What? Why?”

“I wanted your soul back.”

A storm of emotions flew over Dean’s face, one changing into another so quickly that he wasn’t able to hide them even if he wanted to. In the end there was just one silent question mixed with hope but also denial and Sam really regretted what he was going to say next:

“The son of a bitch doesn’t want to return it.”

The light in Dean’s eyes faded away and the green became darker.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Sam whispered.

“It’s okay, Sammy,” Dean said and descended on their bed heavily. Sam sat down beside him, his eyes never leaving Dean’s face.

“Dean, I…” he started hesitantly, catching his brother’s attention. “I exchanged my soul for the right to share the afterlife with you…”

Dean stared. “You _what_!?”       

“Dean…”

“How _could_ you, Sam? How could you do such a thing? Don’t you have any brain in that big head of yours?” He stood up, pacing the room. “Dammit, Sam…” he said, his voice sounding broken.

Sam stood up as well. “Dean, I can’t be without you. Not in this life, not after we die. We have just a little time here and eternity is a hell of a long time…”

Dean shook his head. “Sammy… you shouldn’t have…”

Sam came up to him, touching Dean’s shoulder lightly. Dean didn’t look at him, though he didn’t pull away. Sam found his courage to hug his brother.

“Nothing will separate us ever again. We’ll be together forever,” he whispered.

Dean exhaled into Sam’s neck. “You idiot, Sam… You idiot…”

Sam smiled, hugging his brother close. “Love you, babe.”

“Love you too, dummy.”

“Good. Let’s get some sleep.”

Dean nodded silently, stepping away from Sam.

They climbed into the bed, snuggling to each other, and fell asleep.

*

Dean woke up to the nice smell of morning coffee. For the past two weeks since they had left the cottage in the forests of Montana there was no chance to have delicious homemade beverage, but today, he could see Sam moving in absolute silence in the small motel kitchenette, preparing some for both of them. A package of burgers was lying on the counter beside two mugs waiting for hot water to fill them.

Dean watched his brother’s movements – graceful, precise and deliberate – as if he wasn’t taking care of usual morning routine but was on a hunt. Maybe there was still something of the wolf inside him. In any case, Sam was the same as the Sam from before he had been bitten.

Sam poured the water into the mugs, taking one of them with one of the burgers, and he walked to the bed.

“Hey,” he said with a smile, offering Dean both the coffee and the burger.

Dean sat up, staring at his brother. “What is this?”

“Breakfast to bed,” Sam said lightly.

Dean reached for the coffee hesitantly and sipped from it carefully. Exactly the taste he liked. He sighed contentedly, putting the mug on a bedside table and taking the burger from Sam instead. He unwrapped it and started eating.

“Mmmmm, Heaven on the Earth!”

Sam chuckled. He stood up and went for his own burger.

They ate in silence, Dean enjoying his breakfast in bed – something that never happened before. Well… Actually it did. With Lisa. After Sam jumped into the Cage, Dean, drowning in his grief, refused to leave the bed and if he did, it was just for a drink. Lisa wanted to make him eat something, but it was hard at the beginning. Dean knew he owed her much and he was grateful for everything she did for him, but those times were over and he was here with his brother, enjoying the breakfast in bed Sam arranged for him, and he couldn’t feel any happier. Sam sat beside him, chomping on his own burger, and when Dean looked close, he could distinguish a stealthy smile curling Sam’s lips.

 _B_ _itch,_ he thought, grinning at his burger.

Sam’s hand touched his arm and when Dean looked up from his breakfast, his eyes met his brother’s. Dean didn’t think much before he leaned in and kissed Sam. Sam sighed quietly, kissing back.

“You know, I could live like this,” Dean said after a while, smiling.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?” he said teasingly, and Dean slapped his arm playfully.

“Bitch.”

Sam chuckled. “Jerk.”

“Come here.” Dean’s fingers curled around the silver chain hanging around Sam’s neck and pulled him closer. For a moment they were breathing each other before their mouths crushed together in an impatient kiss.

Dean could really imagine their lives be like this till the end. He didn’t feel this happy and untroubled for a very long time.

Their lips parted, but their faces stayed just inches away. Both breathing quickly, they looked into each other’s eyes.

Dean smirked. “The chain looks girly. But it’s practical at least.”

Sam laughed. “Don’t forget you put it on me.”

“But you bought it. And it suits your girly nature. Just admit it, Sammy, in this relationship you’re the woman,” Dean said teasingly.

“Say that again and I won’t bring you breakfast into bed ever again,” Sam said, trying to sound annoyed. He failed.

Dean grinned. “Now you only proved what a big girl you are.” He put his hand on the nape of Sam’s neck, pulling him in for another kiss. After their mouths parted again, he said: “If I forget hunting, it feels like we were some newlyweds or something…” He gave Sam a roguish grin, but it wasn’t as self-confident as Sam knew it. “With you being the bride, of course,” Dean added.

Sam chuckled. “You didn’t carry me over the threshold.”

“You’re freaking heavy for that.”

Sam laughed again and gave his brother a brief kiss before he stood up and went for his own coffee.

“So what are our plans now? Besides hunting,” Sam asked, drinking his coffee slowly when he returned back to Dean.

Dean shrugged. “Haven’t thought about it yet.”

Sam nodded wordlessly.

“Why? Do you have something in mind?”

“Well…” Sam started hesitantly. “You liked the life we had, didn’t you? Staying in one place, having a job, going for a hunt only once in a time…”

“What are you trying to tell me?” Dean asked curiously.

Sam looked at him. “We can’t afford hunting in such an extent as we used to. If we don’t want to end up in jail, we have to keep low profile. I thought… that maybe… we can live the way Bobby did. Have home, jobs probably, and become FBI, CIA and other departments for the hunters who need a cover-up – just like Bobby was for us. We don’t need to stop hunting, but we would take just smaller cases – the same as we do now. What do you say?” He raised his eyes to Dean, who listened to him carefully without any interruption. Now, when he was asked directly, he took a deep breath.

“It doesn’t sound like crap. Actually, it sounds good,” Dean said in a serious tone. “You’re right, there’s not much we can do about hunting, but we can help like this. Well… any ideas where we can build up our base?”

It seemed his words encouraged Sam. A small smile appeared on Dean’s brother’s lips.

“When Bobby’s house was destroyed, his junkyard stayed untouched. I thought…”

Dean smiled. “You thought we could build a new house there and take over his job.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Sam said.

Dean’s smile broadened. “Not bad, Sammy. Not bad at all. We’d have everything we need there and I suppose the panic room survived the destruction as well. At least I hope.”

Sam grinned. “So?”

“So we have a plan,” Dean said, handing Sam his half-empty mug and got up from bed. “Get ready, we’re leaving in half-hour.”

Sam laughed. “I’m ready to leave whenever you say.”

Dean nodded appreciatively. “Good. Because if I had to wait for you to make yourself up…”

“Jerk.”

Dean grinned. “But I see you managed that before I woke up. Though, a bit more of mascara would do you good,” he said on his way into the bathroom.

Sam glared, grabbing the nearest weapon within his reach (which was a pillow) and ran after Dean, who hurried into the bathroom and laughing, he slammed the door behind him quickly.

“Just wait when you get out!”

Dean laughed harder and in a good mood he got in the shower.

*

They hit the road no more than fifteen minutes after Dean left the bed. Enjoying the loud music and the wind in their hair as they rode with the windows down, they passed one town after another, stopping only for a quick lunch. Sam’s hand rested on Dean’s thigh as usual and he could feel the heat radiating through the thick fabric of his brother’s jeans. It was exciting and Sam had to make himself think of something absolutely boring and uninteresting so that the blood didn’t start gathering in particular parts of his body.

Probably Dean had the same problem. When their eyes met for a moment, he looked away quickly, but there was always a smile spreading over his lips. Sam smiled himself, watching the land. Dean didn’t break the speed limit today, they didn’t hurry. There was no case waiting for them, just a long road winding in front of them as a promise of better tomorrows.

Sam’s hand shifted higher and he could hear a sharp intake of breath. He looked at his brother and noticed the growing bulge in Dean’s pants.

“Stop the car,” Sam said in a low, husky voice, and Dean didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled the Impala on the side of the road and Sam’s hand popped the button open and pulled the zipper down before he freed Dean’s pride from the underwear. Dean breathed out heavily, his hands on the steering wheel. Sam looked at the beautiful length and his mouth sheathed Dean without hesitation. Dean trembled and moaned loudly.

“Sammy,” the name fell from his lips, and maybe Dean didn’t even intend to say anything, because the tone of his voice gave the name the heaviness of something extremely treasurable.

Sam raised his head and looked Dean in the eyes. Dean was staring back without any protest, and his green eyes were full of emotions he didn’t manage to hide from Sam. Sam crushed their mouths together, kissing Dean messily, and Dean returned each kiss with the same ferocity.

When their lips parted for a moment so that they could get some air, Dean rasped:

“Backseat. Now.”

*

Sam’s eyes got wide, and he breathed out and nodded. He was out from the car in a moment just to occupy the backseat in a few seconds. Dean followed him, attacking his mouth again after he barely got in. He didn’t know what got into him, but he needed Sam more than he needed air right now, he needed to feel him, to have him, to know there was no one else for Sam but him. He felt the urge to have him, to _possess_ him, to make him his. He was unbuttoning Sam’s shirt – really, clothes were so overrated – and he never stopped kissing his brother. His lover. Sam was trying to get him rid of the clothes as fast as possible as well. Maybe he was feeling the same urge, the same want, the same flame inside – and dammit! Sam knew something about flames; his skin was so hot as if he had a fever, his eyes dark and glistening, and while he was kissing Dean fervently, he was pushing him down into the lying position. Despite the fact it wasn’t compatible with the ‘possessing’ part of Dean’s longing, he obeyed. Seeing Sam’s broad bare chest bending over him was quite something, too. He reached out, his hand running over Sam’s nipples. Sam sighed, his eyes never leaving Dean’s.

By the time they got rid of their clothes completely (only Dean’s amulet and Sam’s silver chain stayed in their places around the boys’ necks), they would have been as hard as rocks, Dean already leaking with precome. He whimpered as Sam’s hand touched him and started stroking – fuck! – just stroking gently… and he was kissing Dean slowly, sensually, lovingly, and Dean felt like the greatest treasure in Sam’s world again. _Mine,_ he thought possessively as he wound his arm around Sam, pulling him down. Sam sank on his body and damn the constricted space in the Impala! – they became just a knot of arms and legs and it was bloody uncomfortable. He loosened his embrace for Sam to lift from him again and to find some better position.

“Want you, Sammy,” Dean whispered as he felt the loss of the heated body, reaching out to Sam’s face.

Sam took his hand and kissed the palm. “I know,” he whispered back, leading Dean’s hand to his entrance. He gave a slight nod.

Dean fumbled over Sam’s hole. It seemed tight, but still welcoming. Sam breathed in as Dean pushed his index finger inside a little.

“We need lube,” Dean reminded.

“Forget the lube.”

“Sam.”

“Too late. Forget it. You’re freaking leaking like a holey cask, it must be enough…”

“Sam.”

“No. It’s too late. I can’t part from you even for a second. Not now. No. Do it, Dean.” It was a plea mixed with an order. Dean didn’t like it, but he kind of understood his brother. He didn’t want to lose the contact as well. He pushed his finger inside Sam with more force, hearing a beautiful sigh that followed.

“Yes…” Sam moaned, seeking Dean’s mouth again.

Before he pushed another finger inside, he wetted it with his saliva. They didn’t use lube, but if he could ease the penetration somehow, he did it.

Sam’s big, dark eyes were fixed on him, his mouth slightly parted.

“Can you feel our hearts?” Dean asked in order to distract Sam’s attention from the fingers inside him.

Sam nodded quickly and smiled, sweat rolling down his temple. “They are racing.” He gasped in the next second, because Dean pushed the third digit in.

“It’s okay, baby,” Dean whispered, cupping Sam’s face with his free hand.

Sam nodded again, trembling.

“Kiss me,” Dean said, and Sam bent low, and while Dean was trying to stretch him, he was kissing him slowly and absent-mindedly. “You wanted it like this,” Dean reminded him only to be silenced by a new kiss.

He slid his fingers out from Sam’s body.

“Ready?” he asked, his cock leaking like mad, waiting impatiently for some attention or wet heat it could sink in.

Sam nodded again, bracing himself against the backrest above Dean’s head and with his brother’s help he slowly and carefully descended on his erection. He hissed quietly, breathing quickly, and Dean felt the frantic rhythm of their joined heart. _One heart,_ Dean realized. _J_ _ust one heart beating in two chests_.

He looked at Sam trying to move, but it was hard both for the pain it caused him and the painfully small space. Dean put a hand over Sam’s chest, realizing more and more that their hearts indeed were just one organ. _B_ _ound with life and death, that’s what we are, that’s what we’ve always been…_ he thought; the silver D dangling in front of his eyes caught his attention. He thought he knew why Sam chose it – the little bitch believed in Dean’s protection, and even though he might not always have appreciated it, he never doubted.

Dean looked at Sam’s flushed face and his attempts to move despite the pain. He rose on his elbows at first and then tried to sit up. Sam still sitting in his lap, Dean’s cock buried deep within him, he was made to press to Dean, careful about the ceiling of the car, his legs spread wide but bent in knees and pressed into the seat from both sides of Dean’s body. Dean was holding Sam’s whole weight and if they really wanted to have at least some bad sex here, this was definitely the worst position for it. Dean slid lower as far as the front seats allowed him, his legs spread wide as well. Sam got enough space to prop his knees against the seat and with his hands braced against the upholstery from each side of Dean’s head, he started moving.

Dean’s eyes never left Sam’s face and Sam was staring back at him. There was so much faith and love and will to give as much as he could – not just physical pleasures, but everything that was hidden in this gorgeous muscled frame – and Dean shivered, his lips parted…

“I love you, Sam,” he said.

The world didn’t shake as he thought it would. Sweat was rolling down Sam’s body as a while ago, the silver D was glistening in front of Dean’s eyes with the same intensity, only Sam’s chest was heaving a little bit quicker. His eyes were dark, but what wasn’t the same in them was a spark – a sun in Sam’s eyes – something totally new and unknown, yet marvelous.

Sam stopped moving. They were staring at each other in complete silence, both feeling there was something magical about this moment – they were connected not only with body or their lives. This was something more, something completely different. It wasn’t about sex anymore, nor was it about the desperate urge to feel or to “possess” each other. Dean felt a touch, but he couldn’t say how he could feel it because Sam was absolutely motionless, and definitely he couldn’t say _where_ he felt it. It wasn’t anywhere on his body and he still felt it, it was getting stronger and firmer, it was a grab, a power knotting him with something else – with someone else – with Sam. It hurt, dammit, hurt like his whole being was being bent into unnatural angles and he was still so pliant to that force, and willing and _wanting_ to have his soul welded together with Sam’s. Sam must have felt that too, because Dean could see the understanding in his eyes never leaving Dean’s and the willingness to let that power bind them together.

_What is bound by God’s will cannot be unbound._

The words sounded in Dean’s ears with the heaviness of the world’s greatest truth.

Sam heard them, too.

The moment was over, but they still didn’t move. For anyone who would have watched them right now they would have appeared like secret lovers frozen in time. Dean couldn’t stop gazing at Sam, he couldn’t stop supporting his weight, he couldn’t move at all.

Sam did it for him.

He lifted his hips carefully, and Dean’s manhood slid out from him effortlessly.

Dean’s chest tightened with the feeling of loss of something precious. He noticed Sam’s eyes filled with sorrow and Dean’s brother bent forward to give a kiss, but he stopped midway and pulled away again.

Sam was right. The kiss felt inappropriate right now.

None of them was hard anymore. Everything suddenly felt like physical pleasures had no meaning. They were just a replacement for incapability to drown in each other.

They got dressed in silence and moved to the front seats. Dean started the engine and when the Impala purred and Metallica roared from the speakers, everything seemed to be back to normal. Sam’s hand rested on Dean’s thigh again, but it was unnaturally heavy and burning like incandescent iron.

They crashed in a motel that night. Keeping their silence, communicating with looks and touches that were more eloquent than any words at that moment, they went to sleep tangled into each other.

The feeling of sanctity didn’t leave them even in the morning. After they woke up they spent a long time just looking at each other until Sam finally dared to reach out and touch his brother. The warmth that spread through Dean’s body felt like liquid happiness running through his veins together with blood. Dean smiled, removing a strand of Sam’s hair behind his ear. If there was any meaning in that gesture, than it was a clear invitation to take more of that gentleness.

Sam returned the smile. He bent to Dean’s face to kiss him… 

They made love. Slowly, silently, touching each other as though their bodies were something sacred, tightening the knot of their souls and forging their bond stronger.

They didn’t say a word to each other, they didn’t need to. After they left the bed finally and got dressed, they packed their things and left the motel. They bought take-away meal for breakfast and left the town as soon as possible, wanting to be alone. They ate during a short brake on their way to Bobby’s junkyard and after a while they reached the destination.

“It looks the same as when we left,” Dean commented as he looked around the place.

“Yeah, exactly the same,” Sam agreed, walking slowly to the debris of Bobby’s house. Dean followed him mutely. “The panic room should be okay, I guess.”

Dean laughed. “Sounds great as a temporary home.”

“At first we have to find it.”

*

It wasn’t so easy. They stayed at the local motel while they worked on moving the debris away from the place. It was a hell of a work, but they were too stubborn and persistent to keep going on until the day came when they found the entrance into the panic room.

They were right. The room stayed untouched and was ready for using. Dean stood in the doorway for a while, remembering all the things connected with this place. They weren’t nice memories.

Sam’s arms wrapped around him from behind, and Dean could feel the broad chest of his brother press against his back. A small, wet kiss pampered his neck. Dean relaxed into Sam’s embrace, smiling. As long as no one could see them, this was absolutely all right.

“Welcome home, Dean,” Sam whispered into his ear.

Dean grinned. “Nah. It’s just temporary. We have still a lot of work, Sammy.”

“Uhm.” Sam nuzzled his neck.

“Do you have something in mind?” Dean asked with a smile, turning his head slightly to look at his brother.

“How about a private house-warming party?”

Dean sniggered. “We have nothing to drink.”

“We don’t need anything. I wanna drink you.” Sam pushed Dean into the room lightly.

“Aww, you’re a poet now?” Dean teased, turning to Sam.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“Gladly.” Sam sought Dean’s mouth and kissed him.

Dean grinned and stepped back, looking at Sam roguishly. “And now the party,” he said, taking his T-shirt off.

Sam chuckled, doing the same. “I promise, this party will be great, babe.”

“Bitch,” Dean responded with a grin.

“Jerk.”

They were in each other’s personal space again in the middle of a huge devil’s trap, ready to celebrate finding their old-new home. Even if they had never acknowledged it and they surely would not acknowledge it ever, this place was the most homely place they ever knew – they always returned here, they were always welcomed here, and whatever happened, they found shelter here with home-made food and cold beer in the fridge or a drink if they needed it. And even if the person that gave them all of that was long gone and the house didn’t stand there anymore, it couldn’t lessen the power of this place.

Dean ran his fingers through Sam’s hair. “Welcome home, Sammy,” he whispered before he kissed his brother. 


	13. Epilogue

A girl stood in the middle of the chaos in the building site, but no one seemed to notice her, no one seemed to see her at all. She watched the men working, building a new house in the old junkyard. The mood was cheerful and when a tall, brown-haired guy called the others for a short break for a beer, the men abandoned their work gladly to have a cool drink. Some of them were hunters, some of them just ordinary guys from the nearby town.

The tall guy handed one of the bottles to a man with penetrating green eyes. When they looked at each other, there was something deep and strong and mysterious between them. They smiled; the guy with the green eyes took the beer and popped the cap, taking a swig. The one who offered the beer did the same. They were standing close to each other, and the girl could see with her angelic vision the power binding them together.

“You lie, you cheat and what for? For two guys who should be long dead,” sounded an angry voice next to the angel. A blonde woman was standing there, and obviously she wasn’t seen by the men as well.

“Why are you here, Fate?”

“Why do you think? I was given a job. Do you think it’s easy to make two people drop dead at the same time?” she said, irritated. “No, of course you don’t. Actually, it’s you interfering with my efforts to bring them to the other side finally.”

“Their souls belong to me. I can do whatever I want with them.”

The woman gave a heavy sigh, but it sounded more like she was getting ready for a new outburst of anger. However, when she spoke, her voice was firm and steady. “Their time is long up, Raphael.”

“Who says that?”

“I do.”

“God wants them alive,” the angel said matter-of-factly, watching the men drinking their beers.

“How do you know that?” This time the annoyance in Fate’s voice was obvious.

“If he didn’t, they would have died long ago. There’s a new task waiting for them, but they are not ready for it yet.”

“What task?”

“I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

Fate snorted, looking at the sweaty and stinking guys. “That’s bullshit.”

“Call it what you want, but if you touch my souls, I’ll kill you. Do you understand?” The angel turned to Fate and the look in the girl’s eyes was supposed to be enough of a warning.  

Fate looked at the two guys and her face puckered with anger. “You really want me to believe that crap? I know you too well, Raphael. They are nothing more than trophies to you. You tricked them and now you’re showing off.” With that she disappeared.

Raphael stayed there, watching the men get back to work. The two guys who were the subject of the conversation smiled at each other and there were loads of things the smiles said but the angel wasn’t able to decode. Yet, the guys understood each other perfectly. They both grinned.

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is really the end. I hope you enjoyed the story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you all for reading it!   
> Well... as for Sam and Dean's task Raphael and Fate were talking about... that may be a new story ;)


End file.
